Holding Back
by kmac9
Summary: Will Walt and Vic continue to hold back, or finally go after what they want?
1. Chapter 1

Vic woke with a slight buzz in her head. She was struggling to open her eyes, the morning light aggravating the dull ache that radiated throughout her skull.

After a few minutes things seemed to settle a bit.

Her disorientation lessened.

Her surroundings came more into focus.

_Holy shit._

Her eyes flew open.

Her heartbeat started to quicken, and the clenching feeling in her gut started to rival the throbbing in her head.

She turned slowly to her left, pushed herself up to a seated position, holding the sheet against her as she did, and found herself looking at Walt's naked and sleeping form.

_Holy shit!_

She pulled the sheet more tightly against her chest.

Walt stirred. Vic stilled and held her breath. When he did not waken, she closed her eyes and let out the breath she had been holding. Her eyes drifted open and back over to Walt. She took in his steady breathing. His bare chest. His left foot peeking out from the sheet draped over his lower body.

She closed her eyes and tried to put the pieces together, but things were a bit muddled. With a quick look at Walt to confirm he was still sleeping, Vic slipped out of the bed. As she tiptoed across the room, she searched for her clothes. She suddenly had a vision of their clothing strewn throughout the other room, and stopped in her tracks. She looked at the closed bedroom door, and then at the door to the bathroom. Hearing Walt stir again on the bed, she quickly stepped into the bathroom, waiting until she shut the door before turning on the light.

Her eyes fell on Walt's jeans and green button-down shirt hanging over the shower curtain rod.

Rain.

She remembered rain.

She closed her eyes to try to make sense of the images suddenly flooding her thoughts.

She remembered running quickly through a few sprinkles to get into the Red Pony to pick up her dinner order. She remembered Henry looking up from his conversation with Walt to smile at her in greeting. She remembered Walt's eyes on her as she made her way toward them at the bar. She remembered Henry placing a beer before her and trying to convince her to join them instead of going home and eating alone. She remembered the smile that reached Walt's eyes when she agreed to stay.

Vic stood in front of Walt's sink and turned on the faucet, letting the water flow over her hands. She saw herself holding the front door of the Red Pony slightly ajar as she looked out into the rain, which had become a downpour. She saw Walt appear at her side and felt his breath on her ear as he leaned in to be heard over the music. She heard herself accept his offer for a ride and then saw him run out in the rain. She saw him pull his truck up close and then reach across to open the passenger door as she made a dash for the vehicle.

Vic looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and started to laugh at the sight of her tousled hair. She tried to smooth her hair down, and then leaned over the sink to run water over her face. She saw Walt sitting in the driver's seat, soaked from head to toe. She heard her laughter as she reached out to run her fingers through his wet hair, which was plastered to his forehead. She saw a slow smile spread across his face as he looked at her, his gaze making her heart flutter.

She winced at the dull ache between her eyes and opened Walt's cabinet to see if there was anything inside she could take for her headache, but came up empty-handed. She remembered sitting with Walt in his truck in the Red Pony's parking lot. She remembered the rain beating down hard against the windows, blocking everything else out. She remembered her reluctance to go back to an empty house and her suggestion that they go somewhere for coffee. She remembered their decision to stop at his place first so that he could change.

Still standing in front of the mirror, Vic rubbed her hand over her eyes and then pinched the bridge of her nose. She saw Walt's profile as he drove silently, concentrating on trying to see through the rain. She saw him glance over at her every now and then, his expression unreadable in the dark.

Vic's eyes fell on the tube of toothpaste on the sink. She removed the lid and squeezed some on her finger. She remembered Walt pulling his truck in front of his cabin and then pausing briefly to look her way. She remembered the squish of his boots meeting mud as he jumped out of the vehicle and made his way to the porch. She remembered reveling in his closeness as he held her at his side under the umbrella he'd brought back with him.

Vic finished brushing her teeth, turned to her right and brought her hands up to touch Walt's jeans, confirming they were dry. She remembered Walt going immediately to his bedroom to change out of his wet clothes. She remembered removing her boots, and making her way to his kitchen to pour herself a glass of water.

Letting go of Walt's jeans, Vic pulled down Walt's shirt and slipped it on. She then turned, pausing with her hand on the bathroom door handle. She was nervous that she would open the door and find Walt awake and awkward around her. Or full of regret. Or insistent that what had happened could never happen again.

She took a deep breath and then slowly and quietly opened the bathroom door and poked her head out. Walt was no longer in bed, and the room was empty.

She stepped cautiously into the room, her eyes immediately falling on her clothes, which were now lying on the chair in the corner. The jeans and shirt Walt had changed into last night were lying on top of his dresser. She remembered him approaching her side as she stared out the kitchen window, watching lightning snake through the dark sky. She remembered him unsuccessfully searching his cupboards for coffee after he suggested they not risk going back out. She remembered pulling a bottle of whiskey off his shelf and holding it up with an arched eyebrow and a gleam in her eyes.

Vic thought briefly about whether she should get dressed. It might help any potential awkwardness between them. But she also worried that he might think that her getting dressed meant that she regretted what had happened and wanted to make her escape.

Keeping Walt's shirt on, she put on her underwear, and then slid back under the covers. She pictured Walt as he sat on one end of the couch. She pictured his eyes, blue, and focused intently on her as she shared a story. She pictured him leaning toward her to fill her glass, his eyes never leaving hers.

She had just settled in when the bedroom door opened, and Walt appeared. He was holding a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Vic brought her eyes to his, as he stood before her in his boxers and a t-shirt. She remembered thinking it had been four months since her divorce was finalized, and six months since he had asked her to stay. She remembered wondering if he was ever going to make a move. She remembered thinking he was sitting too far away from her on the couch and that it might finally be time she made a move of her own.

He paused a moment in the doorway, and then walked over to her side of the bed and sat on the edge. "Morning." His voice came out gravelly, and Vic felt her skin flush at his nearness. She tried to focus on his words.

"Morning." She sat up, leaned back against the headboard, and reached out, taking the water from him. "Thanks."

"How are you feeling?"

"My head felt like crap when I first woke up. Feels a little better now." She took a sip of water, looking at him over the rim. "How much of your whiskey did we end up drinking?"

His eyes were still locked on hers. "A fair amount." He opened up the aspirin bottle and handed two tablets to her. She took them, swallowing them down with a large sip of water.

His eyes stayed with her. "I didn't know if you'd remember the whiskey."

"I do."

She remembered edging closer to him on the couch, taking the bottle of whiskey from his hands, and putting it back down on the coffee table. She remembered sliding in closer, waiting for him to halt her approach.

"So you...you remember last night?"

His right hand was on the bed, and she briefly looked down, watching his fingers unconsciously clutch the sheet beside her hip.

She nodded. "Yep."

She remembered the drum of rain against the roof, and the catch of his breath as she drew closer to him on the couch. She remembered his initial hesitation at her touch, and then the moment he started returning her kiss. She remembered their nervousness as their fingers fumbled with each other's buttons.

She brought her gaze back up to his face, finding his eyes had dropped to her lips. They fell a little lower, landing at the opening of his shirt she was wearing. He suddenly seemed to realize where he was looking and quickly glanced to the side.

"I'm worried...I'm worried that I took advantage...of the situation."

"Walt, if I'm not mistaken, I kissed you first."

Walt looked down at his hands. "And because of the alcohol...maybe you weren't thinking clearly...maybe we just got carried away."

"I don't think alcohol causes you to do something you don't want to do. It just lowers your inhibitions. I wanted what happened last night to happen. Based on how you responded...I thought you did too."

He looked back up at her and held her gaze. After a moment he raised his hand and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, his fingers coming to rest on her cheek. And then he seemed to check himself, dropping his hand and breaking eye contact.

He looked over his shoulder to the right. "My room looks different from this side of the bed."

Vic paused, blinked and then shook her head slightly. "I take it you haven't slept on this side before?"

"No one has slept on this side of this bed before." He said it quietly as he continued to look around the room, so Vic wasn't sure he was aware of what he'd said, or that he'd said it out loud. "Only you."

Unnoticed by Walt, Vic's eyes grew big at the meaning of his words. She brought the water glass to her lips, swallowed and then placed the empty glass on the nightstand.

Walt caught the movement and looked over at the glass. "I was going to make some coffee but remembered I was out."

When he looked back at Vic, his expression was unreadable.

"That's right. You being out of coffee last night was responsible for...all this." She grinned, wanting him to know she was joking.

His expression didn't change, and for a moment she worried her attempt at humor had backfired. "I thought it was the whiskey you pulled off my shelf that led to all this. You said it lowered our inhibitions. Which means you, and your whiskey, not my lack of coffee, are responsible."

Her grin grew bigger. "I pulled out the whiskey only because you were out of coffee. So ultimately it's all on you for not keeping your kitchen better stocked."

"It was your idea to go out for coffee instead of letting me drive you straight home."

"But you were the one who was soaking wet and had to change his clothes before we went out."

"I ran out in the rain so I could get my truck to pick you up so you wouldn't have to get too wet."

"You're the one who offered me a ride."

"And you're the one who had a few beers and needed a ride."

"You're the one who convinced me to stay and drink those beers."

"Henry was the one who convinced you to stay."

She wanted to tell him that Henry wasn't the reason she'd decided to stay at the bar. Instead she shrugged. "Ok, let's blame Henry for all of this." She laughed, and then smiled as Walt did the same.

Walt looked out the window to his left, and then back at her.

"I'll run out and pick up some coffee. And some food. My fridge is embarrassingly empty."

She was reluctant for him to leave, worried that he might come to the conclusion that last night was a mistake by the time he returned.

"Ok." As he went to stand, she brought her hand down on his, causing him to pause and look back at her. "But don't overthink things while you're gone."

He took her words in and then stood and walked over to his dresser. Vic tried not to stare as he stepped into his jeans and then slipped his shirt over his shoulders. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a pair of socks.

"I couldn't find your shirt."

Vic's brow creased in confusion. "What?"

He buttoned his shirt as he walked back to the edge of the bed and then sat down and started putting on his socks. "That blue top you were wearing last night. I couldn't find it when I was gathering up our clothes earlier."

Vic glanced over at the chair. She'd assumed her shirt was in the pile below her jeans. "So you don't like me in your shirt? You want me to get dressed?"

His hands stilled and he looked up at Vic. "That's...that's not what..." He paused when he saw a smile break on her face. "I just thought you might be wondering why your shirt wasn't in the pile." Once again his gaze dropped to her neckline before returning his attention back to pulling up his socks.

When he was done, he looked back up. "I'll look again when I get back. Or you can look for it while I'm gone. You might have a better time remembering where it...landed."

"You're the one who took it off me and tossed it."

"I wasn't really concentrating on the shirt once I..." He trailed off, and then looked away trying to mask a grin.

Vic smiled in response. "I'll take a look for it while you're out."

Walt looked over at his bathroom door, a slight look of concern crossing his features. "Sorry about my bathroom. It's kind of in a state of...renovation."

Vic snorted, causing him to turn back toward her. "Renovation? Is that what you're calling it? I was in your bathroom the last time I stayed here, and not much has changed since then. And that was a year ago."

He paused a moment, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. "Ok, I'm heading out. I'll be back in a bit." He leaned over to kiss her goodbye, as if it were a natural and common thing for them to do, and then froze. As if he'd suddenly realized the assumed familiarity of the action.

"Sorry—" he started to say, but Vic leaned in and captured his lips before he could fully apologize for something she hadn't been sorry he'd done.

Vic pulled back. "I'll see you when you get back with my caffeine fix."

Walt rose, a bit unsteadily Vic noticed with a smile, and made his way across the room. He paused a moment in the doorway, turning his head slightly to the side. "I like you in my shirt." He exited without looking to see if Vic had a response, closing the door behind him.

Vic sunk back down into the bed, listening to the sound of the front door opening and then closing.

_Holy shit!_

She burrowed a little deeper under the covers, and stretched her arms out over her head.

_Holy shit!_

Walt. Last night. Even with all the images and sensations running through her head, she almost couldn't believe it.

Rolling to her left, Vic looked at the side of the bed Walt had occupied earlier.

Until last night, every shared meal, every car ride, every beer they'd had together had been in the context of work. The only times she'd been to his cabin were to drop off his car. The one time she'd been inside his cabin was because he'd felt it was his duty, as her boss, to provide her protection. And they definitely hadn't spent any time together, just the two of them, outside their working relationship.

But last night, all that had changed.

That had spent time together. Just the two of them. It had definitely not been work-related. And there was definitely something there between them. She'd _felt_ it.

The entire night had been a series of looks and small moments, culminating in something potentially significant.

Vic thought it a positive sign that Walt hadn't verbalized any regret or insisted that they never do it again. His hand at her cheek, his willingness to poke fun at the events that led them to their night together and his comment about her wearing his shirt were all promising. But she expected that he would soon start retreating, and she knew she needed to prevent him from falling back on his usual tendencies.

They had given each other space over the past six months. He'd given her the space she needed as she adjusted to life during and after her divorce. And she'd given him space as he adjusted to a world in which Barlow Connolly was behind his wife's murder. But life had been moving on, and very little had progressed between them.

Until last night.

And now, after last night, she didn't want to go back to how things had been. She hadn't fully processed what had happened, but she knew she wanted more. More than just a professional relationship with Walt. More than just last night. And she thought he might want more as well. She just had to convince him that it was ok to want more. And that it was alright to go after it with her.

Vic heard the front door open and the sound of Walt's boots on the hardwood floor and sat up with a start. She hadn't realized how long she'd stayed in bed thinking through recent events. Looking forward to the coffee he'd promised to bring back, Vic rose from the bed and picked her jeans up off the chair. Getting some caffeine in her system might further clear her thoughts and help her through the conversation she knew she and Walt needed to have.

"Dad? You home?" With only one leg in her jeans, Vic froze at the sound of Cady's voice.

_Holy shit!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone for your patience. I've been out of town much of the past two weeks, so it took me a while to complete this chapter. Hopefully the fact that it's extra-long will help :)**

* * *

His first mistake was being indecisive.

Walt was standing with a carton of eggs in his hands, staring down into his cart.

He couldn't decide what Vic would want for breakfast. He'd shared many a morning meal with his deputy at the Busy Bee, at the office when one of them picked up an order, and in his truck on the way to a crime scene. While he could eat anything put in front of him without complaint or preference, she had moods about food.

_I'm just not in the mood for eggs today. _

_It's just a pancake kind of day, Walt._

_I feel oatmeal is the way to go this morning, don't you?_

_I've been craving an egg skillet. It's not on the menu, but I think I can convince them to make it._

He couldn't predict Vic's breakfast mood that morning, so he'd filled his cart with numerous options.

"Need any help?"

Walt looked up quizzically.

"You seem a little confused by those eggs you're holding."

Walt smiled a half-smile at Christine, the cashier, placing the eggs on the belt. "Just momentarily lost in thought."

"Contemplating the age old question 'Chicken or the egg?'" Christine asked with a laugh as she scanned the eggs.

"Something like that."

"Come to any conclusions?"

Walt thought about all the unanswered questions rattling around his head. "If only life were that simple." He continued moving the other items from his cart over to the belt.

Christine laughed again. "If anyone can crack that mystery wide open, it's you Sheriff."

He grinned. "I'll do my best."

Christine continued to ring up his items. "What did you think about that storm we had last night, Sheriff? Did you get stuck in it?"

Walt smiled at the memory. "Yep. Got soaked."

"Luckily I was already indoors. It didn't start up until after I got home from work. But oh my, that rain was sure coming down in buckets, and pounding against the windows. And that lightning and thunder was intense. The dogs were howling, and my kids both ended up in our bed. We didn't get much sleep."

Walt nodded. He didn't get much sleep last night either. But obviously for different reasons.

"Did you have any damage up at your place this morning?"

Reluctantly Walt pushed thoughts of Vic aside and brought his attention back to Christine and her question. "Damage? Not that I saw." Walt hadn't seen any noticeable damage that morning, but he had to admit his mind had been on other things as he'd left the cabin.

"That's good to hear. We had a few tree limbs down by us and things were a bit swampy, so the dogs came in covered in mud, but not much else. I hear the storm caused some damage around town, however. Apparently Dirk and Lynette Johnson had a tree land on their garage, and Pete and Wendy Casselman now have a gaping hole in their roof. Suzanne Nichols was in here earlier and said she saw a few damaged cars with tree limbs on them on her drive in."

Walt nodded at the news.

Christine started bagging his items, and Walt reached in to his back pocket to pull out his wallet.

"Do you have company coming over, Sheriff?"

Walt looked up, his hand paused at the opening of his wallet. There's no way she could know about Vic. "Company?"

"You usually only pick up a few items at a time when you come in, so I didn't know if you were preparing for visitors."

Walt scanned his items. He knew he should have been more decisive. Now he was going to be added to Christine's morning gossip. He scrambled to come up with a response. "Uh...just couldn't make up my mind. I guess they're right. You shouldn't go grocery shopping when you're hungry."

Christine laughed and then looked back at the register. "Cash or credit, Sheriff?"

Walt glanced at the total and handed her some cash.

She counted his change and gave it to him. "If you solve the egg vs. chicken conundrum, let me know."

Walt smiled as he put his wallet away. He'd add it to the list of conundrums he was currently facing.

XX

His second mistake was walking into the Busy Bee on a Saturday.

When he entered the cafe he was greeted by the hum of morning activity.

"Eating in or taking it to go?" Walt looked over at Dorothy who had called out the question from behind the counter.

"To go."

"The usual and a cup of coffee?"

He suddenly realized his mistake in coming in. Of course Dorothy was going to recognize Vic's coffee order once he placed it. "Uh...I'll pass on the usual."

Dorothy paused to look up at him quizzically. "You want to see a menu?"

Walt smiled and ran his hand along the hair at his neck. "Uh...just two coffees. One black. One with skim milk and three sugars." Walt felt Dorothy's eyes on him as his gaze dropped to the countertop.

After a moment she pulled out two to-go cups and started to fill them. "You and Vic got a case this morning?"

"Well...uh—"

Luckily for Walt a couple patrons stepped up to the counter, relieving Walt from her line of questioning.

When she was finished with the customers, Dorothy put lids on Walt's cups, and slid them in his direction. "Good luck with the case. Hope it doesn't take up your whole weekend."

"Thanks." Walt handed her some cash and picked up the coffee cups, the corners of his mouth turning upwards at the thought of a whole weekend being taken up by Vic.

XX

His third mistake was doing exactly what Vic had told him not to do and overthinking things.

His thoughts were vacillating between all the reasons why they should or shouldn't get involved, including all the reasons they would or wouldn't work. Images of what transpired between them the previous night kept slipping in between his more rational thoughts, and ended up on both sides of the pros and cons list he was mentally building.

Because his focus wasn't on his driving, he didn't notice Cady's jeep until he was right in front of it slamming on his brakes.

Putting his truck in park and cutting the ignition, Walt looked at his cabin through the windshield.

He couldn't believe this was happening. He and Vic were going to have enough trouble figuring out what was going on between them without Cady, or anyone else, shining a spotlight on it. When he'd left Vic, she'd been in his bed, wearing only his shirt. Cady's arrival could mean disaster.

His hand on his forehead, he thought through the possibilities that lay in store for him.

Vic may have been in the front room or kitchen when Cady arrived. And she may still have been wearing only his shirt, unable to locate her own shirt.

Or maybe Vic had been in the bedroom, caught when Cady popped her head in to check if Walt was still sleeping.

In either situation, why Vic was at the cabin would be painfully obvious to Cady. Would he find the two of them sitting in the front room, silently and awkwardly awaiting his arrival? Would they be sitting there all chummy, able to get over their initial embarrassment, and openly discussing him, the one thing they had in common? Or would they have relegated themselves to separate rooms in their shared discomfort? Cady on the couch, staring back and forth between the bedroom door and the front door as she awaited his return, Vic pacing in the bedroom.

There was still the possibility that Cady hadn't discovered Vic's presence at the cabin. Maybe Vic had hidden in the bathroom or under the bed when she heard Cady arrive, or maybe Cady hadn't checked the bedroom, having registered that Walt's Bronco wasn't parked outside, and surmising that he wasn't home.

Maybe. But with his luck...

Walt grabbed the bag of groceries and the tray of coffees and made his way to the cabin.

XX

His fourth mistake was entering the cabin carrying _two_ coffees.

Of course, he wasn't thinking about the fact that he had Vic's coffee in his hand when he walked in the front door and found Cady sitting in the chair in his front room.

Cady looked up from her smartphone. "Morning Dad."

Walt's eyes scanned the room as he leaned over and placed the tray on the coffee table. "Morning Punk."

Vic was nowhere in sight and his bedroom door was still closed. He straightened and brought his eyes back to Cady who was looking up at him.

"Did you forget?"

"Forget?"

"Our breakfast plans. I left a message last night to remind you."

He had completely forgotten their breakfast date, scheduled by Cady weeks ago. He stayed on her for a moment before heading to the kitchen with the bag he was carrying. "I was just out picking up groceries."

He placed the paper bag on the table and began unloading the items.

"Well it turns out I can't stay for breakfast, as I now have to go into work. But I'll take a coffee if one of these is for me."

Walt froze, looking back at the tray containing the two coffee cups.

Before he could stop her, Cady reached out, picked up one of the cups and removed its lid to check out its contents. Seeing the creaminess of the beverage she brought the cup to her lips.

Walt cringed.

Cady grimaced in disgust. "Ugh. Sweet. Didn't you tell them just milk?"

"Uh..." Walt's mind went blank for a moment. "Maybe I slipped, and placed Vic's usual order. We've been getting a lot of coffees to-go as we've worked our recent cases. I guess I just ordered without thinking. You can have my coffee." He turned, grabbed the milk carton from the grocery bag and brought it to her.

"What are you going to drink? I can't see you drinking this one." She placed the offending coffee back on the table.

"I picked up some coffee grounds at the store. I'll make a pot."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

Cady removed the lid from the second cup and poured some milk in. She handed the milk carton back to Walt, and then looked him up and down.

"You better get that pot going, you look pretty exhausted." She scanned his face more closely. "Why are you so tired? I thought you left the Pony before I did. I looked up at one point and you were no longer sitting at the bar."

With so much else occupying his thoughts, he'd forgotten that Cady had been at the bar last night with some of her co-workers.

"I did leave before you...but didn't get much sleep."

"That storm was pretty bad, wasn't it?"

"Yep."

"Did Vic leave at the same time? I was looking for her, but couldn't find her."

"I...gave her a ride."

Cady smiled. "Did you and Henry get her sloshed?"

Walt paused. "Just wanted to play it safe...the rain makes it hard enough to drive when you haven't had anything to drink."

To shift focus away from the current conversation topic, Walt walked over to his desk and noted the blinking light on his answering machine. Cady had indeed left a message that, given what had transpired the previous night, he hadn't listened to. He reached out and pressed play, and then rested his hands on the back of the desk chair.

He was expecting Cady's voice, and was surprised when it wasn't hers."

"Hi, Walt. It's Theresa. I called your office but you weren't in. Ruby suggested I try you at home. Looks like you are out and about. I'll try you later this week." She let out a light laugh and then hung up.

"Was that Theresa Coleman?"

Walt looked over at Cady. "Yep."

"How is she doing—"

Cady's question was interrupted by Henry's voice coming from the machine.

"Hello Walt. I am just calling to see if you want my help with Vic's car. I—"

Walt pushed the desk chair slightly to the side, reached out and forwarded to the next message.

Cady's voice filled the room, her message reminding Walt of their morning plans.

The message had barely ended before he heard Cady shift in her chair. "What's wrong with Vic's car?"

His back to Cady as he stood at the desk, Walt closed his eyes. "Nothing's wrong with Vic's car."

"Then why did Henry offer his help with it?"

"As I said, I gave her a ride last night. Her car is still in the Red Pony's parking lot."

He turned toward Cady, finding her gaze focused on the floor near the desk. She raised her eyes, peering at him closely.

"Is something going on with you and Vic?"

He felt his breath catch. He forced the air out and tried to look calmer than he felt on the inside. This was the spotlight he hadn't wanted pointed at them. "Going on?"

"Are the two of you dating?"

He figured his best defense might be playing it dumb. "Dating?"

"It may have been a while Dad, but you know what a date is. Two people arranging to get together. Maybe going for a meal or a movie. Maybe a little something more."

He could feel the heat rising as he tried to ignore the 'something more' comment and turned to the side so Cady wouldn't notice. He'd focus on the first part of her explanation. He and Vic had definitely not had any _arranged_ get-togethers.

"We're not dating."

"You sure?"

"Yep." He turned back toward her, holding her gaze. "Why?" He didn't know if he wanted to hear her reason for asking the question.

Cady watched Walt over the rim as she took a sip before lowering her cup. "My co-worker, Scott, moved here a couple months ago from Cincinnati, and I thought he and Vic might hit it off. Sean left five or six months ago, and I was thinking Vic might be ready to start moving on."

Walt stared blankly at her, his eyes drifting over to the closed bedroom door. He wondered how much of this conversation Vic could hear.

"Anyway, I introduced them last night. I didn't get a chance to ask Vic what she thought of him before she left. When I asked Scott, he said he was interested but that she seemed a bit distracted, and that some older guy at the bar had his eyes on her the whole time they were talking. He wondered whether Vic and this guy might be involved. You were an older guy sitting at the bar last night. I didn't think the two of you were involved or that you were the one he'd seen staring, but I thought I'd ask."

Walt pressed his lips together and stayed silent, hoping Cady would move on to another topic if he didn't engage.

Her gaze dropped briefly to his feet again, but then returned to his face. "So you're ok with me giving Scott Vic's phone number?"

Walt's eyes went unfocused for a moment as he inwardly cringed. Vic could absolutely hear this conversation, he was sure of it.

"Uh...that's not up to me. You can give Vic's number to anyone she wants you to give her number to."

Again Cady looked at Walt over her cup of coffee. "Ok." She paused, scanning the desk. "It would be weird, wouldn't it? You and Vic?"

Walt felt his stomach drop. "Weird?'

"Well, you know. Given that you're her boss. And the age difference. How old is she anyway?"

"I don't know."

"And you're so different. I don't know, I think it would be kind of weird."

Walt looked at Cady, keeping his expression neutral. "What kind of woman should I be looking for?"

He saw Cady's attention drift to his desk again, and he followed her eyes' path to the framed picture he had of Cady and Martha.

She quickly looked back at him. "I don't know. Forget I brought this up."

She stood, picking up the tray, and made her way to the kitchen.

His fifth mistake was not getting rid of the evidence earlier.

Walt's brain was churning through Cady's comments when he caught her movement in the kitchen out of the side of his eye. It was at this moment he remembered the whiskey bottle and glasses he'd moved from the coffee table to the counter next to this sink that morning. He stepped closer to the couch, his eyes darting over to the counter. Would Cady notice that there were two glasses? And that one of them had smudges of Vic's lipstick on it?

He watched as Cady walked over to the kitchen table and put down Vic's coffee. His gaze fell to the side table at the end of the couch nearest the kitchen. Vic's phone was laying there, in plain sight. He quickly stepped up to the end table, picked up the phone and put it in his pocket as Cady turned back towards him.

He needed to get her to return to the front room before she discovered the glasses near the sink.

"So when do you want to reschedule our breakfast for?" he asked as he walked toward the front door.

Cady sipped her coffee as she approached his side. "You wanna do dinner this week?"

"Sure. Just call me when you figure out which day works best for your schedule."

Cady shook her head. "Oh no, we're settling on a day now. I know what it's like trying to get you on the phone. And apparently you don't check your answering machine very regularly. How does Wednesday sound?"

Walt glanced over at the bedroom door. "Uh...Wednesday sounds good."

He turned and opened the front door, and then leaned forward to open the screen door.

"Before I go..." Cady extended her hand holding the coffee cup out. "Can you hold this while I run to the bathroom?"

Walt took the coffee from her before realizing what was happening, or, more importantly, what could possibly happen. He placed the cup on the desk and dashed to the bedroom door in an attempt to beat her there, trying not to look like he was desperate to keep her out.

"Uh...let me...let me check out the bathroom first...I kind of left it a mess."

Before Cady could protest Walt walked into his bedroom. With a quick glance around the room to confirm Vic was not in sight, Walt stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. Swiftly he pulled back the shower curtain but found it empty. Perplexed, he grabbed his jeans from off the curtain rod and left the bathroom.

"Ok. You're good to go."

Cady stepped past Walt to enter the bathroom. "I'm sure your bathroom was fine, Dad. I've seen it in a far worse state before."

When Cady closed the door behind her, Walt turned back toward the room, his eyes falling on the bed. The covers were in disarray, and both sides of the bed looked like they had been slept on. A wave of anxiety passed through him. What had Cady seen while she waited for him to let her use the bathroom? What had she concluded?

Walt stepped up to the bed, pulled up the sheet and blanket, and rearranged the pillows. He then got down on his knees to check if Vic was hiding under the bed, but again did not find her. He stood, and with a glance at the bathroom door walked over to his closet.

When Walt opened the closet door he found Vic inside, her eyes big, her body on alert. They stared at each other in silence. The toilet flushed, pulling Walt's attention for a moment. He briefly closed his eyes and then turned back to Vic, his look apologetic.

Vic cocked her head to the side for a moment, pursing her lips, and then reached out her hand to pull the door shut. Walt stood staring at the closed door until he heard the bathroom door start to open. He stepped toward the bedroom door, lost in thought as Cady followed him back into the front room.

She paused in the doorway to the bedroom. "Are you ok, Dad?"

Walt shook himself from his thoughts and tried to sound casual with his response. "Yep. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. You're just acting kind of weird this morning. Antsy."

Walt swallowed. "I told you that I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Yeah, but it seems like it's more than that."

He took a couple steps toward the front door. He would love to end this current conversation, but if he couldn't, maybe they could at least have it out on the porch, or even better, out by her jeep.

Cady followed him to the door. "Did you share anything with Henry or Vic last night that you're not sharing with me? Do I need to give them a call to get an update on my dad, and what's going on in his life?"

"Uh...no."

Cady took out her phone. "I can text them both right now if you don't spill the beans."

Walt thought about Vic's phone in his pocket, panicking slightly but attempting to not look concerned.

"Cady," he said sternly, stepping forward and putting a hand on her hand holding the phone until she lowered it.

"I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind...because of things going on at work...and I didn't get much sleep. That's all."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

Walt's gaze drifted to the bedroom, and then shifted back to her. "Nope. It will all work itself out." He wasn't so confident about that any more, but he didn't need to let Cady in on that fact.

He picked the coffee cup off the desk. "Don't you have to get to work?"

"I do." Cady looked around the room and then leaned forward and gave Walt a kiss on the cheek. She took the coffee cup from him. "I'll stop by the office at seven on Wednesday and we can go to dinner from there."

"Sounds good, Punk." He held open the screen door and watched Cady make her way to her car. He stayed in the doorway until her jeep disappeared from sight.

He turned to face the inside of his cabin, letting out a great sigh.

XX

His sixth mistake (although he figured at this point he should stop counting) was being his usual self in unusual circumstances.

Walt opened up the closet door, finding Vic standing with her arms crossed, the expression he'd last seen her wearing still on her face. She was wearing his shirt, but had put on her jeans and socks, as well as her bra, as he could see one of the straps through the open collar of the shirt. "Sorry." He held her eyes for a moment and then held up her coffee cup and cell phone. "Cady took a sip. I can make you a fresh cup if you want."

Vic wordlessly took the phone, placing it in her pocket, and then took the coffee, bringing the cup to her lips.

Walt nervously waited for her to say something, but Vic continued to drink, her eyes steadily on his.

Finally, she handed him the cup. "I gotta pee." She then vanished into his bathroom.

Walt stood for a moment, staring at the closed bathroom door, but then turned and left the bedroom. When he stepped through the doorway his gaze landed on Vic's blue shirt, lying on the floor beneath his desk, partially hidden by the chair. The chair he had moved to the side when he was listening to his messages.

He walked over to the desk, and was about to pick the shirt up, but paused. He looked over at the chair Cady had been sitting in, and then looked back and forth between the chair and the shirt. He then walked over to the chair, sat down and looked over at the desk. The shirt was partially in view, but he had no idea if Cady had seen it, or had recognized what it was. Of course, she had seen Vic wearing it at the Pony last night, but he didn't know if Cady had looked closely at Vic's attire or remembered it. He stood up, walked back over to the desk and picked up the shirt.

Walt straightened up, finding Vic standing at his side. He handed her the shirt he was holding. Vic looked at the shirt and then down at the desk, a smile grazing her lips as she seemed to remember how the shirt ended up where it had.

She placed the shirt on the back of the desk chair and took her coffee cup from Walt's other hand. Bringing the cup to her lips, she turned and walked into the kitchen.

"I'm starving. What did you pick up to eat?"

Walt paused for a moment and then headed for the kitchen.

"What are you in the mood for?"

Vic surveyed the items he'd purchased. She picked up the package of bacon and handed it to him. "I've got a taste for a breakfast sandwich. You're in charge of the bacon."

Walt paused at the counter, his eyes falling on the whiskey. He moved the bottle to the shelf Vic had pulled it from, and placed the two glasses in the sink. Vic's eyes were on him the whole time.

"Were those out while Cady was here?"

"Yep." He held up the package of bacon. "How many slices do you want on your sandwich?"

"Three."

Walt pulled a large pan from his cupboard and placed it on the stove, opened the package and counted out seven slices. He watched Vic open one of his cupboards.

"Looking for something specific?"

"Eventually I'll want a couple plates, a pan, a cutting board and a sharp knife, but right now I'm just being nosy. I bet very few others have had the chance to look inside these cupboards."

"Only a handful."

He saw Vic pause for a moment and then continue her investigation of his kitchen. He leaned down and pulled out a cutting board and pan from the lower cupboards, and then opened a drawer and pulled out a knife. Vic pulled down two plates and two glasses.

She placed the plates on the counter in front of the toaster, and placed two slices of bread on each one. She filled the two glasses with orange juice, and then pulled the package of coffee out of the grocery bag and walked over to the coffee machine.

Walt turned toward her. "I can make that."

Pulling open a drawer, she located a filter and a coffee scoop. "You're the one who sacrificed his coffee for the greater good." She set about making the coffee.

As Walt attended to the bacon, he watched Vic move around the kitchen. He couldn't help himself from staring and was caught off guard when she stopped in front of him. He tried to look elsewhere and not make it seem like she'd just caught him staring at her, but he didn't think he pulled it off.

She brushed against him as she leaned over the stove and dropped a pat of butter in the pan he'd placed on the other front burner. She looked in on the progress of the bacon, and then looked up at him. Her face was close and Walt got lost for a moment in her eyes. When he blinked, Vic grinned and took a step back.

"Did Cady see my shirt below your desk?"

Walt paused, holding the tongs in mid-air. "I'm not sure. She wasn't looking for it, so she might not have seen it or recognized it if she did, but I don't know."

Vic nodded as she moved back to the counter and began slicing the cheese.

"I'm thirty-four."

"What?"

"You told Cady you didn't know how old I am. I'm thirty-four."

Walt didn't say anything as he flipped the bacon.

Vic looked over her shoulder at him. "And you're, what, sixty-two?"

Walt dropped the bacon slice in the pan and spun toward her.

"I'm not—"

Vic started to laugh. "Relax. I know you're not sixty-two. I just wanted there to be a moment where it crossed your mind that I might think there are twenty-eight years between us, and yet wanted to sleep with you anyway. Now a seventeen year difference doesn't seem that bad, right?"

Walt turned his attention back to the pan. "How do you know how old I am?"

"I snooped in your personnel file."

Again Walt turned toward her.

Vic laughed again. "Seriously Walt, you've got to do a better job figuring out when I'm kidding. I didn't peek at your file." The mischievous smile she gave him did not give him comfort.

"I saw your driver's license."

She turned back toward the cutting board and started slicing a tomato. "And before you start wondering if I snooped in your wallet, I'll assure you I didn't. You had your license out one time."

"Uh huh."

Vic placed the bread slices in the toaster and then joined Walt's side again, turning on the burner. She walked over to the table, selected two eggs, and then put the carton in the fridge.

"Who is Theresa Coleman?"

Walt paused, and then reached into a cabinet and pulled out a plate. He placed a few paper towels on the plate and then stepped back in front of the stove. "A family friend."

Vic cracked each egg into the melted butter in her pan. He didn't know if she was looking for him to elaborate further, but she remained silent as she cooked the eggs.

He removed the bacon strips from the pan and placed them on the paper towels. Vic snatched one of the slices as he passed by and popped it in her mouth.

"Hey!" He slapped at her hand when she tried to go after another slice.

"What, did I eat one of your slices?"

"Actually, I expected you to do that, so I made an extra slice."

Vic laughed heartily. "So you can't seem to tell when I'm pulling one on you, but you know me well enough to make an extra slice of bacon because you expect I'll try to steal one."

Walt raised an eyebrow at her and then turned to the table and started moving the remaining grocery items to the fridge and the pantry.

The coffee was ready so Walt grabbed a mug and poured himself a cup. "Do you want a refill?"

"Sure."

He retrieved another mug and filled it, adding milk and sugar, and then placing their mugs on the table. He turned around and moved the glasses of orange juice over to the table as well.

Vic grabbed the toast and placed an egg on a slice on each plate. She added a little salt and pepper using the nearby shakers.

"Do you think it's weird?"

Although he suspected he knew what she was referring to, he wanted to afford himself some time. "Do I think what's weird?"

Vic positioned slices of bacon, cheese and tomato on each egg, and then placed the other slice of toast on top.

"The possibility of us. Getting involved."

"You're referring to what Cady said."

"Yep."

Vic brought their plates over to the table and they both sat down.

She held her sandwich in her hand but refrained from taking a bite while she waited for a response.

Walt watched a trickle of condensation roll down his juice glass.

"I...I understand Cady's points."

Walt saw Vic's jaw momentarily clench. After a moment she relaxed her jaw, took a bite and silently chewed. He picked up his own sandwich and started eating.

Their food before them gave them an excuse to avoid eye contact, and they spent a few moments eating in silence.

"But do you think the points she brought up are reasons not to...get involved?"

Walt swallowed. "I don't know."

Vic looked directly at Walt. "So you think we should just go back to how things were, as if nothing happened?"

He dropped his gaze and lowered his sandwich to his plate. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Do you think you can do that? Go back to how things were before last night?"

Walt looked back up at her. "It might be...less complicated?"

"Really?"

He didn't respond. Of course it wouldn't be less complicated. Just a different kind of complicated.

"So if Cady asks for my number to give to her co-worker, Scott, I should give it to her?"

Walt briefly tensed. "You can give your number to whomever you choose."

"But how would that make you feel, me giving my number to another guy?"

Walt looked down at his hands, which were clasped and resting at the edge of the table.

"You weren't the older guy at the bar Scott told Cady about? The one watching me as I talked with him?"

He refrained from answering, his silence confirmation that he was indeed that guy.

"So it wouldn't bother you if some other guy asked me out?"

"I didn't say it wouldn't bother me."

"But obviously it wouldn't bother you enough to prevent it from happening."

He stood and paced the length of the kitchen. "You deserve to be with someone your own age, Vic. Not with some old fool, set in his ways. If you hadn't been drinking last night, you'd have come to the same conclusion, and never kissed me."

"What the hell are you talking about...who I _deserve_ to be with? Age has nothing to do with anything. I deserve to be with someone who makes me happy. I want to be with someone I...want. The alcohol didn't suddenly make me want to kiss you. I kissed you because I've wanted to kiss you, and I was hoping the alcohol had finally loosened you up enough that you'd kiss me back. These supposed reasons not to be together always seem to be holding you back...continue to be holding you back, apparently. You're letting others' views about us hold you back. Why can't you go after what you actually want for a change?"

Walt turned away from her, resting both hands on the counter, the questions, excuses, arguments and fears bombarding his thoughts at the same time as her words. Words that were pummeling him. Words that rang true.

He heard Vic exhale in frustration and then walk out of the room.

Walt thought about pulling the whiskey back off his shelf. Instead he followed Vic out of the kitchen.

She was standing in front of his desk, unbuttoning his shirt she was wearing. She turned toward him as he entered the room, continuing to work on the buttons. When she'd unfastened the last button she tore the shirt from her shoulders, defiantly looking at him as she stood before him in only her bra. The look she gave him seemed to say 'Take your last look, and see what you're going to be missing.' He found himself wanting to step forward but he didn't, and instead dropped his gaze.

Vic shrugged into her shirt, buttoned it and without another word, walked out the front door.

Walt stood frozen, listening to the bang of the screen door slamming shut.

Part of him was yelling at himself to go after her. The other part kept him rooted to the spot he was standing in.

He seethed inwardly, angry that he was screwing this all up. His usual self usually excelled in unusual circumstances. At work anyway. But today he had committed a series of mistakes. Mistakes that brought about embarrassment, anxiety and stress, and caused him to fall back into his usual pattern of retreating instead of going after what he wanted most.

Suddenly the door opened and Vic stepped back in.

"I'm going to need a ride."


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm finally getting another chapter posted for this story! A special thank you to MizReesa for letting me know that some of you folks were still interested in what happens next in this story. Thanks for the shot of motivation to finish this chapter, which I'd been working on, but not making much progress with!**

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Vic leaned against the Bronco, arms crossed, chin jutted out, waiting for Walt to come out of his cabin. After telling him she needed a ride, she'd spun on her heels and exited, not waiting for a response, and not wanting to stay in a space that now felt confining.

As she stared off into the distance, she thought of the storm that had raged the previous night. The wind had howled, the tree limbs had bent and moaned, and the torrential downpour had driven down hard and mercilessly. But sitting with Walt in the cab of his truck, and later on his couch, she'd felt connected with him, and separate from everything going on outside.

This morning, the air was still heavy, indicating the heavens would likely be opening up and unleashing more rain on them soon. The sky was a grey canopy of clouds that stretched out as far as she could see, and the wind had picked up. And where last night she'd felt separate and sheltered from the turmoil around them, this morning she felt like she was right in the middle of it. A sky about to unload. A relationship strained at the seams.

The screen door behind her creaked open, and she heard the sound of Walt's boots on the wooden boards of the porch. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then straightened, taking a step back from the truck. Without waiting for him to reach the vehicle, she opened the passenger-side door and took a seat. When Walt came in to view outside the driver's side window, she placed her hand against her door as if bracing herself, or possibly preparing herself for a quick exit.

Walt paused outside the truck, and when she followed his line of sight she saw that he was taking in the sky, as she had done. When he turned to open his door, she quickly shifted so she was facing forward, and busied herself with putting on her seatbelt.

The door open, Walt paused again and then lowered himself into his seat. As he fumbled with his keys she snuck a peek at him noting how tired he looked. It has been a long night for both of them, and an even longer morning.

After turning the key in the ignition and firing up the Bronco, Walt leaned back into his seat. After a long pause, he lowered his window, and then turned toward her.

"You ok?"

She blew a few strands of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes away. "Just peachy."

His eyes scanned her for a moment, and then he reached over and put the truck in reverse.

As they drove in silence, Vic watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was seated in his usual position. Right hand gripping the steering wheel, left arm leaning along the bottom of the open window.

Her headache, which had never really gone away, had ratcheted up a notch over the last twenty minutes, and she brought her fingers to her right temple.

"Drop me off at my place."

Walt looked over at her quizzically, bringing the Bronco to a stop. "What about your truck?"

She dropped her hand, but continued to stare straight forward, knowing if she looked into his eyes she might waver. "I want to shower and change. Probably not a good idea to have you drop me off wearing the same clothes I was wearing last night when we left the Pony. I'll just pick up my truck myself."

"It's still morning. Who's going to see?"

She looked down at her hands in her lap. "It's late enough that the bar is open, and you know Henry has patrons who can sit there from opening to close."

"But they're likely all inside."

Vic pulled at her seatbelt to give her hands something to do. "Likely, but not guaranteed. I know you don't want anyone getting the wrong impression that there's something more than professional going on between us. So we probably shouldn't take the risk."

She saw Walt clench his jaw briefly, and then turn to his left to look out the open driver-side window.

"My house is back towards—"

"I know where you live." He moved his foot from the brake to the gas, turning the Bronco around.

Vic looked over at him. She considered asking him how he knew where she lived, since he'd never been to her house, but held back and resumed looking out her window.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head toward her slightly, but kept his eyes on the road. "How are you going to get your truck?"

"I'll walk."

"It's a few miles."

She half-turned toward him. "I think I can handle it."

His eyes darted briefly over to her, but he held back from saying anything further.

Vic decided she needed to roll down her own window to get some fresh air. Hoping to ease her headache, she closed her eyes and leaned towards the opening, letting the breeze wash over her. She stayed that way until she felt the vehicle come to a stop. She opened her eyes and saw her house through the windshield.

She placed her hand on the handle. "Thanks. I'll..." The silence was thick between them, and her throat felt dry and scratchy. With an exhale, she pulled the handle to open her door.

"Vic. Let me drive you to your truck. It looks like it's going to rain."

Vic didn't respond, but looked up and confirmed the threatening conditions above.

"You can run in and grab a jacket. Or change, if you need to. I'll wait."

Vic looked at her front door, and after one more glance at the sky, dropped her hand to her lap. "Fine. You can take me to my truck."

She felt Walt's eyes on her, and when she made no move to exit the cab, he put the truck in reverse, backed out of her driveway and headed back toward the Red Pony.

Vic watched the trees along the road bend and thrash around violently in the wind as they drove, and noticed many fallen branches. Walt navigated around the limbs in their path.

"I didn't say yes."

His voice caught her off guard, and she went completely still. "You didn't say yes to what?"

"To the questions you asked earlier. Whether I agreed with Cady and thought us getting involved was weird. Whether we should go back to how things were. Whether you should give your number to Cady's co-worker. Whether I'd be ok with you going out with some other guy. I didn't say yes."

She turned half-way toward him. "But you didn't say no."

"I said I didn't know."

"You also said maybe."

"But I didn't say yes."

"You said I deserve better."

"You do."

Vic paused. "You shouldn't think that about yourself. You aren't lesser or undeserving."

He remained silent.

"So what does that mean? That you didn't say yes?"

Again he looked out his open window. After a stretch of silence she thought he might have said all he was willing to say and turned back toward her window.

"It means there are a lot of things to consider. It can't just be about what you and I want."

She looked over his way and found him running his fingers along the hair at his neck. "Do you _want_ something more with me?"

Walt cupped the back of his neck. "I'm not sure that's enough reason for us to..."

When he trailed off she shifted in her seat to face him more fully. "The hell it's not."

Walt said nothing.

"What's the first thing that crossed your mind this morning when you woke up? Did you think 'Oh crap, that can't happen again'?"

A pause. "No."

"Then what's making you think that now?"

Again he said nothing.

She paused, watching him. "Why did you kiss me back last night?"

He turned his head, his eyes finding hers, but didn't answer.

"You could have stopped me when I approached you. Or not responded to my kiss."

He focused back on the road, but his silence made her wonder if he was thinking back to that moment on the couch.

"I...I stopped thinking about all the reasons not to."

"But you're back to thinking about those reasons?"

He drummed the fingers of his right hand along the steering wheel. "Yes."

Vic closed her eyes and swallowed.

"When did these doubts start surfacing? When you were out picking up breakfast? When Cady asked if we were dating and you denied it? When she said it would be weird for us to be together?"

"They've been there all morning...when I left, and since coming back."

She looked directly at him. "That overthinking I told you not to do?"

He glanced at her again. "Yep."

"So you didn't say yes, but you have all these doubts, so you're also not saying no."

Walt drummed his fingers along the wheel again.

She watched his hand, and then brought her eyes back up to his face. "So, where does that leave us?"

"I don't know."

"Oh my god, Walt, you've got to stop it with this 'I don't know' shit."

He looked apologetically at her, but remained quiet.

She felt her eyes grow moist, so she turned away from him and looked at the landscape outside her window. The grass rippled as gusts of wind blew through the strands, and the dark clouds billowed, hanging low in the sky. In the distance it looked like rain had started, and she wondered how long it would be before they were in the thick of it. The dreary, overcast morning wasn't helping her attitude. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her eyelids.

Walt pulled the Bronco into the Red Pony's parking lot, and brought his truck to a stop to the left of her vehicle. He bowed his head slightly.

Vic grasped the handle and pushed her door open. Placing one of her booted feet on to the pavement, she leaned back against the headrest and glanced his way.

"So I'm getting out of this truck, and we're just leaving it as...what...a one night stand?"

Walt's head snapped up. "That's...that's not..." His voice trailed off as he dropped his eyes and brought his hand to his forehead.

"That's not what? That's not what you intended to happen between us? Is that what you told Lizzie?"

Walt's blue eyes darted sharply at her.

"That's completely different."

"How is it any different? You sleep with a woman once. You regret it. And it's over. Seems like a pattern to me."

"I don't...it's...it's not the same at all."

Vic waited to see if he would elaborate any further. When he didn't, she turned back toward the passenger door, pushed it fully open, climbed out and shut it behind her. As she dug into her pocket for her keys she heard the other door open and rotated to see Walt emerge from the Bronco. He walked around the front of his truck and appeared next to her in the space between the two vehicles. He leaned back against the Bronco and watched her.

She straightened, defensively. "What?"

"I don't want you to leave like this."

"Like what?"

"Angry."

"Worried how it's going to affect our working relationship?"

"Well...yes. But that's not why—"

"I'm not angry."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "It seems like you are."

"Well...maybe frustrated...and disappointed."

Walt looked down at his boots as he kicked the surface of the parking lot. "Disappointed? In me?"

"Disappointed in the situation."

"What does your...frustration and disappointment mean for you and me?"

"There is no you and me."

He looked up briefly and Vic saw something flash in his eyes. Was it pain? Sadness? But then he schooled his features and looked to the side.

Vic felt the burn of tears in her eyes and also turned away.

A raindrop hit her cheek, and then another. She looked up, noting that the thick layer of clouds made the sky above them almost black, even though it was only mid-morning. When the next raindrop hit her forehead she closed her eyes. She felt two more drops against her skin, and then nothing. She opened her eyes to check if the rain had halted, only to find Walt close, the brim of his hat above her, shielding her face.

Her eyes locked with his and she was seized with an impulse to lean into him, but caught herself before she did, and took a step back.

"I...I need to go." Her fingers made contact with the handle of the door behind her but she made no move to turn around. Walt didn't step back, instead taking a small step toward her.

"Vic—"

His words were cut short by a truck pulling into the lot. Neither of them looked in the direction of the vehicle as it parked near the entrance to the bar. Vic looked up at a Walt, but he refrained from saying whatever he'd planned on saying. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he took a step back, and then another until he made contact with the passenger door of the Bronco.

The rain was coming down harder, and she blinked as drop after drop hit her eyes. Again she felt her eyes smart, but with the rain wet on her face, she didn't know if he could tell.

Walt stood stoically, as his eyes unwaveringly held hers. She watched as his shirt grew wetter and wetter as the rain bore down on them, but he didn't make a move to get back into his truck or approach her again.

With a small shake of her head, she turned to face her truck, and lifted a trembling hand to unlock her door, fumbling with her keys. "Shit." She'd had it with the rain. That's what got them in to this mess.

Vic managed to open her door. She sank into her seat, yanking the door shut behind her. After a couple breaths, she ran her hand through her wet hair and then started up the truck. Turning her wipers on, she watched their rhythmic movement. She paused and then looked out her window at Walt, who hadn't moved from the spot he was standing in, despite his clothes being soaked through.

She finally broke eye contact, put her truck in drive, and shifted her foot to the gas. She pulled her car out of the parking lot and on to the road. She had just rounded the first bend when the storm turned fierce, and the steady rain became a downpour. Unable to see even with her wipers set to the fastest speed, Vic pulled her truck over to the shoulder and put it in park. It was at this moment that the storm within her finally broke, and as the tears fell, she bent forward and rested her forehead against the steering wheel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for your messages inquiring about when I'd get another chapter for this story posted. Life has been very full, work's been busy, travel has been frequent and time for all things fanfiction has been almost non-existent. But when I got back in town this week I made a commitment to myself to get a chapter uploaded this weekend. Getting woken at 3:45 am by an intense storm gave me some unexpected time to do some writing. So, thanks to the rain, I'm getting this chapter up earlier than I expected. :)**

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Walt looked down at his gas gauge. Three-quarters full. Looking back at the road before him, he thought about how far he could go on it. How long he could drive before he would be radioed for not showing up at work. Or be turned around by guilt. Or a sense of responsibility.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement, and turned his head to see a grey pickup truck passing him on his left. The bed of the truck was already lined up with his driver side window and was pulling ahead. He scanned the side of the vehicle, but didn't recognize the Chevrolet. Glancing at his speedometer, he wondered briefly at anyone who had the audacity to pass a law enforcement official on a single lane road, even when said law enforcement official was lost in his own thoughts and driving slightly below the speed limit.

He looked back at the passing truck, noticing for the first time a dog in the back. The German Shepard stood calmly watching him, as if riding in the back of a truck was a common occurrence. Walt would have loved to pull the driver over and site him, but unfortunately it was not illegal to drive with an unrestrained dog in the back of a truck in most of Wyoming. Down in Cheyenne it was a different matter. But they weren't in Cheyenne.

The grey Chevy continued to pull ahead until the driver had enough space to pull in front of him. Walt kept his slightly-below-the-speed-limit pace, and the truck slowly pulled further and further ahead until it drew out of sight.

Walt envied the dog a bit. Well, not the part about having an owner who thought it ok to travel with his dog in the back of his truck. But the open road, open air part.

As Walt neared the downtown area of Durant, he slowed down further. Turning onto Main Street, he navigated the Bronco into a spot in front of the Busy Bee and put it in park. Pulling the handle of his door, he lowered his left boot to the pavement. With his right boot still inside the truck, he stood, resting his left forearm on top of the door and the right on the roof, and looked up at the sky. The thick clouds hung low. They'd had a break from the rain on Sunday, but it had remained overcast, and this morning the sky looked menacing.

Sliding his right foot out to join his left on the street, Walt turned his head toward the cafe to look in the window. He could make out Dorothy taking a table's order, and he was tempted to slide onto a stool at the counter and hang out for a couple hours while the looming storm passed through. The storm was the reason for staying. Not because he wanted to hide out. That's what he'd say if asked, at least.

Lowering his arms, Walt stepped back and shut the door. As he passed the bed of the truck parked in front of his on the way to the sidewalk, he was greeted by a whine. He recognized the dog whose head surfaced near the tailgate, noticing for the first time the grey Chevy he was parked behind. He looked down at the license plate, again confirming he did not recognize the vehicle.

Walt looked around to see if he could spot the owner, remembering the driver had been wearing a red baseball cap, but the sidewalk was empty in both directions. A wet tongue brought his attention back to the bed of the truck, and he slid his hand over the German Shepard's left ear.

He thought again of the open road. "Want to change spots?"

The dog barked in what Walt took to be as agreement, and licked his hand again excitedly.

Walt smiled. "I'm tempted."

He gave the dog's head one final rub and then stepped up on to the sidewalk. With a jingle, his presence in the doorway of the cafe was announced, causing Dorothy to look up. With a nod, she directed him toward the counter, and then turned back toward the table she was standing in front of.

Walt removed his hat and sidled up to a stool. He briefly glanced at the specials board, and then looked around the cafe. Dorothy wrapped up at the table she was taking an order from and appeared before him on the other side of the counter.

Walt gestured toward the street. "Any idea whose grey Chevy is parked out front?"

"What grey Chevy?"

"Don't you usually stay up on the comings and goings around here?"

"That would entail someone having to _come_ in for me to keep track of them."

"Dorothy, your knowledge of comings and goings is not bound by these four walls."

Dorothy grinned. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She pulled a mug out from below the counter. "The Bee's been busy this morning, so I haven't had a chance to notice who is parked out front. Why?"

"The owner of that truck has been driving around with a dog in the back. Thought I might have a word with him about it if we crossed paths."

Dorothy looked out the window. "I'll give you a call if I learn anything."

She brought her eyes back to his and paused as she took him in. "You're looking a little haggard, Walt. Is the case a tough one?"

He covered his discomfort with the topic by focusing on his hat as he placed it on the counter. "Which case?"

"The one you and Vic were working on this weekend."

He'd forgotten about stopping by the Busy Bee on Saturday morning. "Right. That case." His eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. 8:47. Everyone was likely already in the office. He redirected his eyes back to the cafe owner. "It was a tough weekend." He didn't expand on his statement, not wanting it to slip that he was not talking about a case.

Dorothy, used to his tightlipped-ness, placed the mug in her hand before him and began to fill it. "What else can I get you?"

Could he order a dose or courage? And not the liquid kind, although that might be needed as well. He meant the kind the cowardly lion asked the wizard for. Walt looked down at the steaming dark liquid before him. "One of these for everyone in the office. Their usual orders."

Dorothy turned and pulled a handful of to-go cups from the stack, and used a pen to write a name on each of them. Placing them on the counter, she picked up the pot again and began pouring. "Did you at least make some progress on the case?"

As she asked her question, she looked up at him curiously. Walt watched her over the rim of his cup, marveling at how well she poured without looking.

"We...we kind of stalled." He took another sip, the liquid almost scalding as it went down. "Maybe even took a few steps back." Again, he was not referring to a case, and hoped she wouldn't probe further. There was a reason 'busy' was in the name of Dorothy's restaurant. She knew far too much about him and the rest of the town as it was.

As Dorothy looked back down at the cups between them on the counter, he wondered, not for the first time, if she loved what she did. Pouring coffee for the folks of Durant. Asking them about their day. Was that why she'd done it for as long as she had? Or did she keep doing it because it was what she'd always done, and she didn't think she could do anything else? He bowed his head and wondered the same thing about himself.

Dorothy topped off the four cups with the appropriate amounts of milk and sugar, and then placed lids on them all. She loaded them into a tray, and then looked up at Walt. "You going to finish that here, or do you want me to make a cup for you as well?"

Reluctantly Walt pushed the mug toward her. She poured the coffee from his mug into a paper cup, and then topped it off with the pot she'd picked back up, before placing a lid on it and sliding it back across the counter.

"Thanks." He should have said more. Asked her about her weekend. About what got her up in the morning.

But it wasn't in him today.

Walt rose from the stool, placing his hat on his head as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He pulled out some cash, and placed it on the counter as he watched Dorothy step down to take the order of a patron who had taken a seat two stools to Walt's right.

Picking up the tray of coffees as he slid his wallet back into his pocket, Walt again glanced up at the clock on the wall. 8:54. He was going to need to make his way over to the office, but he looked enviously over at one of the booths, and again thought about hiding out for a couple hours.

Holding the tray in his left hand and picking up his cup with his right, Walt headed for the door, and nodded at the customer who had just arrived and held it open for him.

"Morning."

"Morning."

He stepped out on to the sidewalk, relieved to find that it had not started raining yet. The wind pulled at the brim of his hat, and he briefly wondered how well he had secured it when he had placed it on his head. Hoping his hat wouldn't follow the path of the newspaper he noticed sliding down the sidewalk, Walt ducked his head into the wind.

At the familiar whine, he looked up. "Sorry, fella. Can't pet you this time." He raised his hands and showed the dog the coffee cups in case there was any doubt. The dog's eyes stayed on him as he rested his cup on the roof of the Bronco and opened his door. He hoped the owner of the grey Chevy remembered the German Shepard was in the back of the truck when the rain started. Maybe he wasn't so envious of the dog after all. Picking up his cup, he gave a final nod to the dog before climbing in.

As he lowered himself down into a seated position, he placed his cup in the left cup-holder and then leaned over and placed the tray of coffees in the center of Vic's seat.

He paused.

Vic's seat.

When had he come to think of it as that?

He felt his chest tighten, and looked away from the seat and out the windshield.

He could picture her sitting beside him. Wearing her aviators, her booted feet propped up on the dashboard. Focusing on the screen of her cell phone as she looked up information that would prove her point. Venting about the lack of music options on his static-filled radio. Bugging him to change his mind when he was being obstinate, or in her words, an ass. Staring back at him with those dark brown eyes that always had him opening up despite any initial reluctance.

Vic's seat.

In forty years of friendship, he hadn't thought of it as Henry's. In almost thirty years of being a father he hadn't considered it Cady's. In over twenty-five years of marriage, Martha had driven her car far more often than she'd ever sat in his. And in fifteen years of being the Sheriff, no other deputy had frequented the seat as much as Vic.

Vic's seat.

Again his chest tightened as he thought about the possibility that Vic might not want to drive with him as much. Or at all. Given what had happened between them that weekend.

He remembered Vic sitting in that seat on Friday night, trying to convince him to go out for coffee instead of taking her straight home. He didn't need much convincing.

He remembered pulling up in front of the cabin, and turning to glance at her in the near dark as his heartbeat quickened.

And he remembered the tension between them as she sat in that seat while he drove her to her truck the next morning.

He looked back at the seat. At the tray of coffees. Had he bought them as a peace offering? An olive branch? Masked as a Monday morning pick-me-up for the whole team?

_Why can't you go after what you actually want for a change?_

He brought his left hand to the back of his neck. He thought again of the cowardly lion, and that dose of courage he needed. After a moment he dropped his hand and shook his head, trying to dislodge Vic's words from his mind.

Walt closed his door, moved the column shift into drive, and pulled on to Main Street, eyeing the coffee cups to ensure the tray was secure.

Turning the corner, the front of the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department came into view. Walt's eyes slid to the empty parking spots out front. As he pulled into his spot he wondered briefly at the absence of all three of his deputies. He looked at his watch. 9:01. They should all be in by now. If they were out responding to a situation, why hadn't he been contacted? Had he missed a call from Ruby?

Walt pulled the handle, turned back to pick up both his coffee and the tray, and then stepped out of the truck, shutting the door with his hip.

Halfway across the street he realized he was going to need to do a bit of a balancing act to open the front door. He was in the process of trying to figure out how to best hold everything with only one hand when the sound of a vehicle drew his attention.

He turned to see Vic pulling into her spot, followed closely behind by Ferg.

In the brief moments he had before the two exited their vehicles, Walt looked back at the door to the building. He was still on the road, just before the sidewalk, his hands full with the coffee cups he was carrying. There was no escape.

He heard a car door close behind him. Closing his eyes, he pictured that booth at the Busy Bee he should have taken refuge in, and then turned around.

Vic was out of her truck, standing beside Ferg's open door, and the two were conversing quietly.

He heard Vic's final words even though her head was bent. "You've got to be shitting me."

He saw her straighten and then start walking towards him. He flipped through potential greetings in his head as she approached.

"Vic, I uh...I brought coffee."

Vic didn't pause or even acknowledge him standing in the road as she breezed past him. The door had shut behind her before Walt remembered he needed to breathe.

Just as he was about to turn back toward Ferg, the front door opened, and Vic reappeared.

His heart leapt in his chest.

She strode up to him, focused on the tray in his hands. She reached out and took the coffee that bore her name, and then paused, raising her eyes as both hands gripped the cup. The wind was whipping her ponytail around, and a few strands had come loose in front of her eyes. Looking at him over the rim, she silently took a sip. He gulped and took a step forward.

"Vic..."

She blinked and then turned on her heels and disappeared behind the front door again.

"Don't take it personally, Sheriff. She's been like that all morning."

He hadn't noticed that Ferg had reached his side.

"Like what?"

"Grouchy."

Walt looked up at the second floor window that was next to Vic's desk.

"Did she say what was bothering her?" He already knew the answer, but felt he needed to ask since he wasn't supposed to know.

"No, she's kept mostly to herself so far this morning."

Walt dropped his gaze to the street.

"Is one of those for me?"

Surprised, Walt looked up, and then realized that Ferg was talking about the coffees.

"Yep." He held out the tray for the deputy to grab his cup.

"Thanks."

Walt placed his cup in one of the empty spots in the tray and then made his way to the front door. He held it open for Ferg and then followed him up the stairs.

"You two out responding to a call?"

"Yes. You haven't talked to Ruby yet?"

"Ruby? No. Why? What's up? Where's Branch?"

"Branch? I don't know. He wasn't in when we left." Ferg had reached the top of the stairs and turned and waited for Walt. "The Exxon on 16 was robbed early this morning. Vic and I went out to process the scene."

"What did you find?"

"Not much. Their surveillance cameras haven't been working for months, so there's no video. The guy wore a mask, and the cashier didn't recognize the voice or remember much about his clothing. And he didn't see what kind of car the guy was driving. There were no other customers at the time, so there are no witnesses. There were too many fingerprints to isolate anything specific, but the cashier thinks the guy was wearing gloves, so it probably doesn't matter."

"Anyone get hurt?"

"No. The guy had a gun, but didn't shoot it."

Ferg opened the door to the office.

"Walter."

Walt stepped forward and handed Ruby her coffee. "Morning." He glanced over at Vic, but she was on the phone. "Ferg told me that one of the gas stations in town was robbed."

"Yes. Luckily Vic and Ferg were in bright and early so I didn't need to disturb you." So he hadn't missed her call.

"Where's Branch?"

"There was an alarm going off at Ace Hardware a little while ago, so Branch went to go check it out."

Walt glanced at Vic again, but she was still on the phone ignoring their conversation. He wondered if it was an actual call or if she was using it as a tactic to avoid him.

He turned back toward Ruby.

"Walter, you're looking rather run down this morning."

"So I've been told."

Ruby's eyes stayed on his. "You need to take better care of yourself."

He heard Vic hang up the phone.

"I'm fine Ruby. Just tired. It'll wear off."

Ruby made a face that he chose to ignore.

He walked over to the coat rack and hung up his jacket and hat. He paused a moment before turning toward the swinging door.

"Wait, Walter. I have your messages."

He turned to find Ruby and her post-its waiting.

He half-listened as he covertly tried to watch Vic out of the corner of his eye.

"Tom Haskill called."

The sheriff up in Sheridan. He focused back on Ruby. "Did he say why he called?"

She looked up. "No. He just said that he wants you to call him back when you get in."

Walt nodded as he snuck another look to his left.

"Doctor Weston called to say you can stop by at any time and he'll walk you through his findings."

"Ok."

"Cady called to remind you of your dinner on Wednesday. She said she'll call you again tomorrow so you can't possibly forget."

Eyes back on Ruby, Walt shook his head. "I told her I wouldn't when she called to remind me yesterday."

Ruby smiled before pulling out the last post-it. "Theresa called again. Did I tell you she called here last week?"

"She left a message at the cabin on Friday."

"You should call her back Walter."

"I will."

Ruby handed him the post-its before returning to the other side of her desk.

Walt stared at the pieces of paper in his hand before lifting his head. He turned to find Vic staring at her computer screen. If she'd overheard any part of his and Ruby's conversation, she didn't acknowledge it.

"Thanks for the coffee, Walter. A pleasant surprise."

Walt looked over his shoulder and smiled in Ruby's direction before turning and pushing the swinging door. He ran his hand over his hair as he stepped through.

Vic didn't look up as he walked over to Branch's desk and placed the coffee cup he'd picked up for him near his phone. He paused, listening to the sound of Vic typing on her keyboard as she continued to ignore him. He finally lifted his head and made his way to his office, once again experiencing a tightness in his chest. Upon entering his office, he strode over to his chair, but didn't sit down. He picked up his phone, but after listening to the dial tone for a moment he hung back up.

He stepped closer to the couch and saw the light splatter of rain on the window. He pictured the booth waiting for him at the Bee. He pictured a wet dog whining from the back of a truck. He pictured Vic standing with her back to her truck's driver-side door, looking back at him expectantly while he stood with his back against the Bronco.

_Do you want something more with me?_

He bowed his head and cupped his neck with his hand. He breathed in and out deeply, trying to get the tightness in his chest to ease. After a couple minutes had passed he looked back out the window.

"Vic." He called out her name, breaking the silence. There was no taking it back as her name hung in the air. After a moment he heard her push her chair back and the sound of her boots crossing the floor. Turning, he found her standing, arms crossed, in his doorway.

"Come in and close the door."

"I think right here is fine."

Walt stared back at her.

"You going to tell me about the case this morning?"

"I thought Ferg apprised you of the situation."

"He did. I want to hear your re-cap."

Vic's jaw clenched, but she stepped into the room, and after a moment of hesitation, sat down in one the chairs in front of his desk. Walt briefly looked at his own chair, but decided against it. He also dismissed staying standing, and found himself stepping up to the door and closing it, and then pulling out the chair next to her. They both sat staring at the wall on the other side of the room.

"It was an eighteen year old kid working the register. Second week on the job. He said the guy approached him from behind so he didn't get a good look at him. He forced the kid to get down on the floor and duct taped his wrists and ankles. The kid managed to get loose after the guy left, but he was nervous about reporting the robbery, so he didn't call it in right away. An hour before the end of his shift he changed his mind and called us."

Her forearms resting on her thighs, Vic looked down at her clasped hands.

"The kid was practically shaking in his boots. He'd never seen a real gun that close. He was so scared he couldn't remember anything else but that gun aimed at him. Couldn't remember any helpful details, and with the robbery happening so early, there were no other witnesses."

She slumped a little further forward.

"We basically have nothing to go on unless that kid remembers something. I took pictures both inside and outside, but there's not really anything there. At least nothing obvious. I'm going through the pictures on my laptop now. I told the kid I'd stop by tomorrow to see if he can come up with anything. The guy ordered the cashier down on the ground after he taped him up, so there probably wasn't much he could have seen given that angle, even if he wasn't so scared, but I'll try to see if he can remember the type of shoes the guy was wearing, or what the cuff of his pants looked like. Or maybe the guy dropped something. But I'm not betting on it."

She lifted her head but didn't look over at him.

"You should have called me."

"I told Ruby not to call you."

He turned toward her, but said nothing.

"I knew we could handle it."

Silence.

"Plus, you needed the extra sleep. Ruby was being kind when she said you look run down this morning. You look like shit."

So she _had_ been listening.

"You could have called. I wasn't sleeping."

Vic leaned back in her seat, but still kept her eyes on her lap. "I wasn't either. It's why I came into the office so early."

The rain bore down harder against the glass as the two sat silently, each looking down at their hands.

_So, where does that leave us?_

Vic's words from Saturday morning had been rattling around his thoughts for two days.

"I'm not going to pursue you, Walt. If you don't want there to be anything...personal...between us, then we won't go there. And if you do, then you're going to need to make the next move."

Walt looked up, and found her eyes on his for the first time since they had sat down. With a look that made him forget about hiding out in booths, or driving off into the distance.

"And I think..." She paused as her voice wavered. "I think that if you don't want something...more. Or if you still don't know what you want...I...I think that maybe I shouldn't drive around with you as much."

There it was. The punch in his gut he'd been dreading. Vic not wanting the seat in his truck to be her seat.

There was a knock on the door. Vic blinked and then looked away. Walt stood as Ruby popped her head in the room.

"Walter, Dorothy's on the line. She wants to talk to you."

He glanced down at Vic. "Ok."

Vic ran both hands along her thighs and then stood. Without a glance back at him, she followed Ruby out of his office.

He walked to the other side of the desk, pausing to catch the breath he hadn't realized he'd lost. Finally he picked up the phone and sat down, forcing some lightness into his greeting.

"Did I not leave enough tip this morning?"

"You don't need to tip the owner."

"I've been tipping you all these years, and you only tell me this now?"

"I'm calling about that guy." Right down to business. She must be busy.

"What guy?"

"That guy who parked his grey truck in front of my place, with the dog."

"Oh. That guy. What did you learn?"

"He lives up in Sheridan. The dog belongs to his girlfriend. He's allergic to dogs, so when he has the dog, he has him ride in the back of the truck."

"Did you talk to him about how risky that is for the dog? The speed limit is 80 in some stretches. I don't think his girlfriend would be all that happy to learn her dog went flying out of his truck when he had to break suddenly."

Why was he so concerned for this dog that he'd only encountered for the first time today? Was he equating the risk and uncertainty of his own current situation to being driven around unrestrained in the back of a truck?

"I told him."

"Did you get through to him?"

"I don't think you tipped me enough to guarantee that."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to tip you."

Dorothy laughed.

"Well, thanks for trying. And for calling."

"You're welcome. I'll see you the next time you're in. I hear you've got a couple robberies you're dealing with, so I'll let you go."

"Wait. A _couple_?" But the line was already dead.

"Ruby!" Walt stepped out of his office and found Vic and Ferg putting on their coats. "What's going on?"

Vic looked up. "Branch just called. Another gas station has been hit." She headed for the door with Ferg at her heels.

Walt headed for the coat rack. "Which gas station was it?"

Vic stopped and looked back at him as she let Ferg pass. "Branch is already there. The three of us can handle it. We'll call if anything changes." She continued toward the door. At the entryway she turned, holding his eyes for a moment.

And then she was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Vic was staring at the selection of candy bars, wondering when she had last been inside the store at a gas station. She typically paid for her gas using a credit card at the pump, so it had probably been years since she'd been inside to pay at the register.

As her eyes fell on a Milky Way the ringing of her cell phone startled her.

She dug into her pocket to pull out her phone. Looking down, she saw Ruby's name on the screen.

Was Walt having Ruby call to check in on things?

She took in a breath and ran her hand down her pony tail before answering.

"Hey Ruby. What's up?"

"There's been another robbery."

Crap.

She looked across the store at Branch who was talking to Pete, the owner of The Filling Station, who had shown up five minutes earlier. Ferg was somewhere in the store but not in her line of sight.

"Another gas station?"

"No. AJ's Liquors. Walt's on his way over. He wants me to patch him through."

Her eyes momentarily grew big, and she quickly glanced down so that she wouldn't draw the others' attention.

"Oh...wait...no, I..."

She didn't know if she was ready to have him in her ear, but it was too late. Ruby had made the transfer. Vic heard the familiar static of the connection.

"Vic."

God, if he only knew what his voice did to her.

"Yep."

"Did Ruby tell you—"

"About AJ's? Yes."

"I'm heading over there now. I need one of you to join me."

He didn't ask for her specifically, like he would have before. She didn't volunteer either. She looked back down at the chocolate bars, again landing on the Milky Way, and considered taking it. She could leave a couple dollars on the counter.

"Vic?"

She closed her eyes. "I can send over Ferg."

A stretch of silence came through as a slight hum.

"Ok."

She looked over at Branch who was now at the end of the counter still conversing with Pete, and then at Ferg, who was behind the counter taking pictures. Neither looked over at her, and with one parting look back at the Milky Way, she walked over to the front door and pushed it open. There was a slight drizzle in the air, so she stayed close to the building.

She brought her focus back to the call. She needed to remain professional. Or start being professional. "Do you think what happened at AJ's is linked to these other robberies, even though it's not a gas station?"

He didn't immediately respond, and for a moment she thought he might have hung up. He had, after all, obtained what he needed when she committed to sending Ferg over. But then he cleared his throat, and she took a breath.

"It would be a strange coincidence that all three of these robberies happened in the same morning. From what you've seen so far, do you think the same person robbed both gas stations?"

It's good that one of them could stay focused. Good for the case, at least. But it kind of pissed her off that he didn't seem distracted like she was.

"I'm not sure. We have so little to go on. Especially for the first one."

Professional, she reminded herself, closing her eyes. Focused. She rubbed her eyelids, and then continued.

"There are some similarities. And some differences. But you're right. It would be a strange coincidence if these were not connected."

She thought about their usual back-and-forth on cases compared to how strained their current conversation felt. Would they ever get the former ease of their partnership back?

She briefly pinched the bridge of her nose and then lowered her hand. "I'll have Ferg bring you up to speed."

"Will you be ok without Ferg?"

"We'll be ok. Branch can stay and finish up here, although there's not much in the way of evidence. The EMTs left for the hospital a little while ago with the cashier and I'm going to head there shortly so I can talk to the kid after he's been seen by a doctor."

"Another kid at the register?"

"Yep. Nineteen years old."

There was a pause and Vic pictured Walt sucking on his lower lip as he thought through the case.

"How badly was he hurt?"

"The guy smacked the kid on the head with his gun and kicked him a number of times. I think he'll need some stitches on his face, and may have some broken ribs and some serious bruising."

She looked past the gas pumps, at the puddles near the entrance, and realized the rain had stopped. "If the same guy robbed both gas stations, why did he get violent with this cashier but not the first?"

"Did the kid resist or do something to provoke him?"

"That's why I need to go to the hospital and ask some follow-up questions once he's a little more clear-headed."

It would allow her time to get a little more clear-headed as well.

"Ok...keep me updated on what you find out. I'm pulling up to AJ's now."

"I'll send Ferg over shortly."

Another pause. Vic thought he had disconnected and was about to lower her phone when she heard Walt clear his throat again.

"Vic—"

She had a feeling the next words out of his mouth weren't going to be about the robberies and she definitely wasn't ready for whatever he wanted to talk about. Not with Ferg, and Branch, and the case they were investigating on the other side of the door behind her.

"Hey Walt, I've got to go. Ferg is waving me over."

She didn't wait for his response before hanging up. Sliding the phone into her pocket she stepped back until she made contact with the front of the building. She closed her eyes and let her head roll back. A rap against the glass door brought her to attention and her eyes flew open. Branch opened the door as she straightened, and leaned out.

"Do you want to talk to Pete?"

It was a good thing she had cut Walt off.

"Does he have any ideas about who could have done this?"

Branch shook his head.

A cool breeze lifted the loose strands of her hair, sending a shiver through her, and she looked up at the stretch of sky visible beyond the gas station's overhang before glancing back at him. "I need to head to the hospital. Walt needs Ferg to help him out on another case. You going to be ok wrapping things up here?"

"Sure." Branch held her eyes for a moment and then stepped back into the store.

She could do this. Focus on the case. Be professional. Or at least act like it. Right?

Vic turned up the collar of her jacket and followed him in.

XX

She didn't like hospitals, with their depressing white walls, sterile environment, and the bad news that often went along with being here. If it weren't for her job, she'd stay as far away from them as possible. Her eyes drifted to the lone window in the room, and she realized she needed some fresh air.

Backing out of the room, Vic was startled when she collided with someone's shoulder. She turned to find Walt looking down at the two cups of coffee he was trying to steady in his hands.

"Oh. Hey." She couldn't believe that was all she could think of to say.

He looked up, and for a moment, with those blue eyes focused directly on hers, even those two words flew out of her head.

"Hey." His stare lingered for a moment longer before he dropped his eyes. After a pause he looked past her into the room she had just left and lifted one of his hands.

"I saw you in there when I was talking to Dr. Weston. Thought you might want some coffee."

"Two cups in one day. Making up for not having coffee at your house on Saturday morning?"

Shit. She hadn't meant to actually say that out loud.

He looked over at her and she cringed. The corners of his mouth turned slightly upward as he extended his arm further.

"Maybe."

She reached for the coffee, her fingers coming into contact with his. They both looked down at the cup, and then Walt dropped his hand, and took a step forward into the doorway to the room.

Kyle had finally succumbed to the medication they'd given him, and lay sleeping in the bed. His parents had stepped out to make some calls.

Walt looked back at her. "Were you able to learn anything new from him?"

Vic hesitated and then stepped next to him in the doorway.

"Kyle said he was approached from the front. Said the guy who robbed The Filling Station was dressed in head-to-toe black, and wearing a ski mask and gloves. He didn't see his face, or any tattoos or other distinguishing marks, and he didn't recognize the guy's voice."

"How much did he take from the register?"

"Not much. A few hundred dollars."

"Like the first one."

"Yep."

They stood looking into the room.

"The guy used duct tape to tie Kyle up. But if it's the same guy, this time he used significantly more than he did with the first cashier. And in addition to binding Kyle's wrists and ankles he taped over his eyes and mouth."

"Did you find out if Kyle resisted or provoked the guy in any way?"

"He said he didn't."

She turned her head and watched as Walt bit down on his lip, a look of concern evident.

Her eyes fell to his shoulder, the one she had run into just moments ago, and she had a sudden impulse to rest her hand on his arm. She turned her head away from him and squeezed her eyes shut. "How about your case?"

"It was Tuck Jensen."

She looked back up at him, her quizzical expression causing him to look down.

"The cashier behind the counter at AJ's. He's AJ's son."

Again she was tempted to place her hand on his arm. "Do you know him?"

"He's a junior at the University of Wyoming. Plays wide receiver for the Cowboys. Played here at Durant High School."

"Did you ever see him play?"

Walt nodded. "He's good. Great hands."

"What is he doing back in Durant? On a Monday? Shouldn't he be in class?"

"Tuck's been coming back on the weekends, after home games or when the team isn't playing, to help out at the store. Has been doing it ever since his mother passed away earlier this year."

Walt bowed his head slightly. "He usually heads back Sunday night, but it's Columbus Day, so no classes today."

Vic looked over her shoulder and down the hall. "Is Tuck here at the hospital being treated as well?"

Walt nodded. "Yep. He's even worse off than Kyle here."

She watched his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath.

"The guy stomped on Tuck's head and broke his nose. He also crushed Tuck's hand. I'm not sure if he's going to be able to play football again."

She started to reach out, but stopped, pulling back her hand just before it landed on his forearm. "Do you think it's the same guy?"

"Tuck gave a similar description. Ski mask. Dressed all in black. Used duct tape to tie Tuck up."

"Who called it in?"

"A customer."

She lifted her eyes. "So there's a witness?"

"No. He arrived at the store afterwards and found Tuck on the floor when he went up to the counter to pay."

Vic watched Walt briefly before dropping her eyes to the coffee in her left hand.

"Branch is canvasing the area around both gas stations to see if there is anyone who saw anything that could give us more to go on. Or a video camera somewhere that captured something."

"Ferg mentioned the break-in at Ace Hardware. Do you think there's a connection?"

Vic paused to think about Walt's question. "Branch said the guy working at the hardware store at the time was in the back when the alarm went off. The employee saw someone wearing a mask and dressed all in black leaving the store when he got out front, so called it in. From that description, it could be the same guy. But he didn't take any money from the register. Branch said that the store has an active surveillance camera and that the employee who was working is going to drop off a tape at the station once the store manager gets in."

The two stood side-by-side, watching Kyle sleep from their position in the doorway. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Walt turn his head toward her, so she looked up at him. After a moment he dropped his eyes to the floor and stepped back to lean against the door jamb. Her eyes went back to the kid in the bed.

"I don't know if I can be what you want me to be, Vic."

Vic's eyes darted up to his, which were now focused intently on her. But before she could say anything, her cell phone rang, drawing their attention. She hesitated, dropped her eyes and then pulled out her phone.

"Hi Ruby." Her eyes stayed on a spot on the floor between them.

"Vic, a young man from Ace Hardware has shown up at the station. Branch asked me to call you when he arrived."

"I'm on my way. Keep him there. I want to talk to him."

She remembered something else she needed.

"Ruby, can you give Andy Bowman a call and have him come in. He's the cashier from the first gas station this morning. I told him I would stop by to see him tomorrow, but that was before we knew about these other two robberies. I need to talk to him. I'll send you his phone number when we hang up."

"Sure thing, Vic."

"Thanks."

"Vic, do you know where Walt is? I can't reach him on his radio."

She paused, her eyes drifting over to Walt, who straightened and took a step toward her. "He's here at the hospital with me. Do you want to talk to him?"

He took another step closer.

"Just tell him that Sheriff Haskill up in Sheridan called again."

"I'll let him know."

The call ended, and she slid her phone back into her pocket.

"Sheriff Haskill called again."

Walt's eyes stayed on hers, and she saw him give a small nod. "Ok."

He was too close but she didn't step back. "I...I need to get back to the station."

His eyes continued to hold hers. "Ok."

She was finally able to tear her eyes away, and turned to start making her way down the hallway. Five steps in, she stopped in her tracks, and then slowly, half-turned in his direction.

"I've never wanted you to be anyone other than who you are, Walt."

And as her heart hammered in her chest, she quickly made her escape.

XX

When she walked into the office she found Ruby on the phone, and no one else in sight. Ruby covered the mouthpiece with her hand.

"He's waiting for you in Walt's office."

Walt's office. Great. She pulled her jacket off and dropped it on the back of her chair as she walked by. She could see the back of the man's head as he sat in the chair she had been sitting in when she talked to Walt earlier that morning.

As she stepped through the doorway, the man heard her approach and stood. When he turned toward her, she was surprised to see how young he was. Was everyone that worked the morning shifts in this town a teenager?

"Hello, I'm Deputy Moretti." She held out her hand.

The young man blinked, and then grasped her hand with his. "Hi."

"Deputy Connelly told me that you'd be bringing over a video recording from the hardware store."

"Oh...yes." The kid reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "My boss made you a DVD." He hesitated and then handed it to her.

"What's your name?"

"Dylan. Uh...Dylan Matthews."

"How long have you worked at the hardware store, Dylan?"

"Uh...three years. Now that I'm in college I only work summers, holidays and the occasional weekend, like this one."

"Where do you go to school?"

"I'm a sophomore up at MSU Billings."

"But you grew up in Durant?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Branch...Deputy Connelly told me you were in the back of the store when the alarm went off."

"The store wasn't open yet. I was in back doing inventory when the alarm went off."

"What time did you arrive at the store?"

"Around 7:30."

"And the alarm went off?"

"Um...a little after 8:30. We open at 9:00."

"Did it seem like the guy set off the alarm getting into the store or leaving."

"Leaving, I think." Dylan dropped his chin. "I think he just walked in. I forgot to lock the front door back up when I came in this morning."

"If the door was unlocked, how did he set off the alarm?"

"He tried to leave through the back door. It has a separate alarm which I had not disarmed yet. When the alarm went off and I came out, he made a run for the front door. That's when I saw him. Or the back of him."

"Did you see any part of his face, or remember any distinguishing feature or anything specific about what he was wearing?"

Dylan shook his head. "He was all in black. And had a ski mask on. I only got a glimpse of the back of him as he left."

"You haven't been able to find anything that he took?"

Dylan shook his head again. "The registers were still empty because it wasn't time to open up yet, so there was no money for him to take. And nothing in the store seemed to be missing or out of place. At least nothing obvious."

Vic raised her hand holding the envelope with the DVD. "Have you watched this?"

Dylan shook his head. "No."

"Do you know Andy Bowman?"

His eyebrows knotted. "Uh...no. I don't think so."

"Kyle Walton?"

"No...actually, yes. I know who he is. We were in the same grade at Durant High. But we weren't friends or anything."

"Tuck Jensen?"

Dylan paused. "Everyone knows who Tuck is. He played on our high school football team, and now has a football scholarship at U-Dub."

"Were you two friends?"

"No. He probably doesn't know who I am. He was a grade ahead of me." He paused, his forehead creasing. "Do you think one of those guys was the one who broke into the store?"

Vic scanned his face. "No. We've had a few break-ins this morning. They were the ones working at the other stores." She paused a moment. "Are you heading back to Billings today?"

He nodded.

"If I have additional questions, how can I reach you?"

"On my cell."

"Ok." She turned to walk him to the door. When they reached Ruby's desk, she picked up a blank post-it and pen and handed them to Dylan. "Write your number down."

The door behind them opened, and Vic turned to find Andy Bowman, the cashier from the Exxon station, walking in. Dylan and Ruby both looked up, and then Dylan brought his attention back to Vic, handing her the post-it note.

"You've had an...unusual day. Are you going to be ok driving to Billings by yourself?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, thanks for dropping off the video. And drive safely."

"I will."

With that he turned, walking past Andy and out the door.

She stared down at the phone number Dylan had scrawled on the piece of paper and then lifted her head.

"Hi Andy."

Andy looked at Vic and then at Ruby and then back at Vic. "Hi."

He still looked a little shell-shocked from the morning's events, so Vic walked over and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Let's step into the office over here so you can sit down. I have a few more questions for you."

She guided him over to Walt's office and directed him to the couch.

XX

At the sound of the door opening, Vic looked up from her laptop.

Ruby stood. "How is Tuck doing?"

Walt removed his hat. "It's been a tough morning for him. And AJ."

He glanced over at Vic before returning his attention to Ruby. "Any messages?"

"Just a lot of concerned people, calling because word is getting around about the robberies."

Walt turned to the coat rack, removing his jacket and hanging it up, along with his hat. Pushing through the swinging door, he glanced at the two empty desks.

"Branch and Ferg still out canvasing?"

"Yep."

"They find anything?"

"Not really. But I might have. I've been watching the video from the break-in at Ace Hardware."

Walt sat on the corner of her desk, and she turned her laptop so that he could see the screen. She moved the slider bar to the left to rewind the video and then pressed play.

The angle of the camera had the front door and both registers in view. The store was empty, but then a figure appeared outside the glass front door. Dressed in black and wearing a ski mask, the figure paused, looked to either side, and then opened the door and stepped in.

The figure walked right past the registers without even looking at them, and then disappeared from the camera's view.

"Is this the only angle?"

"Yeah. They only have one camera. Just wait, he returns."

After a couple minutes, the sound of an alarm came through the laptop speakers, and a few moments later the figure came back into view. As the figure ran out the front door, Vic turned to Walt. "Did you see that?"

"Yep. Can you rewind it and pause?"

She rewound the video, and just before the individual got to the door she paused it. The masked person had his head turned toward the camera, as if he knew it was there. Around his right forearm were three rolls of duct tape, which had not been there when he entered the store.

Vic watched Walt as he stared at the screen.

Standing up, he looked down at Vic. "Can you print a picture of that?"

She stood. "Um...yeah."

With brisk strides, Walt disappeared into his office.

Vic watched his retreating back, and then turned to her computer and sent a picture to the printer. Grabbing the printed picture, she walked into Walt's office, finding him standing in front of the wall he tended to use as his 'murder board' when trying to solve more complicated cases. He had posted four note cards with the names of each of the locations of the robberies. Below each note card was another note card listing the name of the employee that had been in the store at the time of the robbery.

Vic tore a piece of tape from the dispenser he had placed on the nearby table, and added the picture of the masked individual she had printed in the column with the Ace Hardware information.

Walt looked closely at the picture and then pulled out another note card, wrote on it and taped it to the wall.

He had written the time stamp from the picture on the card. 8:37. Vic took the pen from his hand and added 8:33 to the card. The time the masked individual had entered the store.

Walt pulled out another note card, took the pen back from Vic, wrote on the card and then added it to the wall below Tuck Jensen's name. Vic leaned in and read the card. 9:15 - 9:40.

"Tuck doesn't remember the exact time of the robbery, but he remembers a customer paying at the counter about fifteen minutes after he opened the store at 9:00. The customer who called the Sheriff's department when he discovered Tuck called around 9:45, and thinks he arrived at the store around 9:40. So the robbery happened somewhere in-between those two customers."

Vic looked over at the first column. "Andy said the robbery at Exxon happened between 6:15 and 6:30, even though he didn't end up calling us until a little before 7:30."

Walt leaned in, taped a note card below Andy Bowman's name, and added this timeframe information.

Vic looked at the note card with Kyle's name. "Branch called the station around 9:25 to report the robbery at The Filling Station. Kyle's a little foggy, but thinks the guy came into the store around 8:15."

Walt wrote the times down and added the card to the wall, before turning towards Vic.

"So he hit The Filling Station around 8:15, and then left in time to get to the hardware store by 8:33."

Vic nodded. "He stole three rolls of duct tape from the hardware store, but had already completed two of the robberies. Did he use a lot of duct tape on Tuck?"

"He had Tuck bound pretty well, but I would say he used less than a roll on him."

"Then why did he steal three rolls?"

They both stared at the wall, Walt with his hands on his hips, Vic with her arms crossed.

Walt shifted his stance. "Can you print each of their driver's license pictures, so we have a face to go with each of the employees?"

"Sure."

Vic turned and headed for the door. She returned with the driver's license pictures, as well as a picture of the outside and inside of the two gas stations, the hardware store and the liquor store. She added the pictures to their growing collection of information.

Walt had filled in a card that listed 'black clothing, ski mask, gloves and duct tape' and placed it at the top, above all the other cards. He had also listed the approximate dollar value that had been taken from each of the registers on separate cards, with a zero listed for the hardware store. And he had written 'injured during robbery' on Kyle's and Tuck's cards.

Vic glanced in his direction. "They all go to, or went to, Durant High School."

"Which is pretty much the case for everyone in this town since it's the only high school." Despite his statement, Walt stood and wrote 'Durant High School' below each boy's name. He then wrote 'Junior at UW' on Tuck's card.

Vic grabbed the pen from Walt's hand and wrote 'Senior at' on Andy's card in front of 'Durant High School,' '2nd year at Casper College' on Kyle's card, and 'Sophomore at MSU Billings' on Dylan's.

Staring up at the wall, Vic stood back and placed her hands on her hips. "Did the guy who robbed these places just happen to choose stores with kids at the register, or did he choose stores because he knew there would be kids at the register?"

She leaned back against the table, gripping the edge with both hands, and then felt Walt's shoulder brush against hers as did the same beside her.

He rubbed his hand along his jaw as he scanned the note cards and pictures. "Did he choose to rob the stores in the morning because he knew there would only be one employee in the store, and few if any customers?"

"Did he choose stores that didn't have a video camera, or working cameras, or was that just luck?"

"Or did he disable the cameras as he planned these robberies?"

She turned toward him. "If he was so concerned about cameras capturing his thefts, why would he steal from the hardware store that he seemed to know had a camera? And deliberately look at the camera as he left the store?"

Walt continued to look at the posted information. "Why would he choose to rob these stores in the morning, when the registers would likely have lower amounts of cash compared to later in the day?"

She returned to looking at the wall. "Why would he choose to rob all the stores in one day instead of spacing them out?"

"Why the escalating violence?"

"Why these specific stores?"

"And is he done? Is that why he stole more rolls of tape?"

They both continued to lean back against the table, the wall with their limited data before them. Vic hoisted herself up to sit more squarely on the table, and crossed her arms. She looked at Walt out of the corner of her eye and thought about the fact that they had gotten some of the rhythm of their partnership back. She turned back toward their handwritten notes. Maybe that was how she was going to get through this. How _they_ were going to get through this. By focusing on the work.

Her stomach rumbled and she saw Walt raise his wrist to look at his watch.

"Oh, I forgot to give this to you earlier." Vic looked over as he pulled a Milky Way out of his shirt pocket. "I know it's one of your favorites and saw it on the counter when I was ordering our coffee at the hospital..."

She paused as her eyes unexpectedly pricked with moisture. She took the candy bar from him and looked over at the left-most set of cards and pictures so he couldn't see.

"Thanks." She blinked a few times to help clear her eyes, and then looked back at him. How was she ever going to be able to focus _just_ on the work?

The phone on his desk suddenly rang, cutting through the silence. Walt held her gaze for a moment, and then blinked and stood. Crossing the room, he picked up the phone.

"Sheriff Longmire."

Walt paused to listen to the caller.

"Hello, Tom."

He listened, bringing the hand not holding the phone to his hip.

"Yep."

He looked over at Vic. "Can I put you on speaker phone? I have Deputy Moretti with me."

"Sheriff Haskill," he mouthed to Vic, before punching the speaker phone button. Vic walked over to Walt's desk as Tom Haskill's voice came through.

"How are you doing Vic?"

"You mean other than the insanity of working through some crazy shit today?"

Tom laughed.

Vic leaned against the side of Walt's desk, staring out the window. Walt stood near the phone, but then walked over and shut his office door, and started pacing in front of the couch.

"What's going on Tom? Must be something big to call me three times today."

"I heard you had a little activity going on this morning in your neck of the woods. The first time I called today was to talk to you about the activity that's been going on in _my_ neck of the woods. I called these last two times because I'm now wondering if the activity is related."

Walt came to a stop and looked over at Vic. Vic's eyes widened and then she turned her head toward the phone.

"You've got a shithead robbing stores up in Sheridan, and using duct tape to tie up the cashier?"

"Yes. Saturday morning somebody hit a convenience store, a bicycle shop, and a car repair shop. Duct tape was used in all cases."

Walt continued pacing and Vic followed his movement. "Was it a kid in his late teens or early twenties working when each store was robbed?"

Tom paused for a moment. "It was a kid working at the convenience store and the bicycle shop, but the employee at the car repair shop was in his late forties."

Walt halted and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I take it you haven't found the culprit. Did you get a good description from anyone?"

"The only description I could get out of them was that the guy was dressed all in black and was wearing a ski mask."

Walt looked over at Vic. "How much money did he get from the tills?"

"Just a couple hundred from both the convenience store and the bike shop. He got more at the car repair shop because he made the employee...actually, it was the owner...open the safe."

Vic furrowed her brow. "Anyone get hurt?"

"All three of them. He whipped them with his gun. Kicked them repeatedly. Used a bat he found behind the counter on the guy at the car repair shop after he opened the safe."

"Shit."

"Exactly. See enough similarities between our cases to feel they're connected?"

Walt stepped forward, stopping in front of the phone. "There are definitely enough similarities to make me suspicious. But there are also a few outliers that raise questions. Your victim in his forties is an outlier. Ours were all between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. We also have a couple outliers. A store from which no money was taken. And a cashier whose register was robbed, but who was not harmed. We need to figure out why these outliers exist."

Vic leaned closer to the phone. "Do you have any suspects?"

"The owner of the car repair shop accused his girlfriend's son, but the kid had an alibi for the morning. So we pretty much have no one right now."

Vic looked up and caught Walt staring at her. His eyes quickly shifted back to the desk.

Vic turned back to the phone. "What was the kid's name?"

"Which kid?"

"The son of the girlfriend that the car repair shop owner blamed."

He paused. "I think it was Tyler."

"How old is he?"

"I want to say he is nineteen or twenty."

"What was his alibi?"

"He's part of some hiking club, and they were on a hike that morning. Other members backed up his story and he had pictures to prove it."

Walt straightened. "Could you send us those pictures?"

"I could dig them up."

"Send Ruby everything you have on the three cases, including Tyler's pictures."

"I'll get everything to you as soon as I get off the phone. Do you have any suspects for your cases?"

"Nope. But maybe something in one of those files will help."

"Well, keep me updated on any new developments, and I will do the same."

"Thanks for reaching out, Tom."

"Thanks for finally being around long enough to answer, Walt."

Walt hung up, bowed his head for a moment, and then walked over to the door, opened it and stepped out. "Ruby, Tom is going to send some files over. When you get them, can you make copies for me and Vic? And he's going to send pictures of a kid named Tyler. Can you print those as well?"

He stepped back in the office, closed the door and walked over to where Vic was sitting on his desk. He stopped in front of her, took a step forward, but then looked past her, to their collection of note cards and pictures on the wall.

Vic shifted her position to look in the same direction. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we're going to need answers to those questions we raised earlier."

"Which ones do you think are the most important to answer?" She turned back toward him, surprised at how close he was now standing. She gulped, and again wondered how she was going to focus _just_ on the work. Especially when he invaded her space like this.

Her movement caught his attention, and he looked down at her. Her breath hitched, and her eyes lowered. She followed the stubble along his jaw to his lips, and then risked looking back up. His piercing blue eyes were still on her and she trembled slightly under his unwavering gaze. A crease formed between his brows.

She took a juddering breath. "What?"

His lips parted but no words formed.

There was a rap on the door. Walt quickly broke eye contact, took two steps back and turned toward the doorway, his hand going to the hair at the back of his neck.

"Come in."

Ruby opened the door, stepped in and looked back and forth between them.

"Sheriff Haskill sent the files, which I'm printing right now. I printed Tyler's pictures first."

She handed the pictures to Walt. He had barely looked at the first picture before his head snapped back up and he started walking toward the door. "Grab your jacket, Vic, and whatever pages have printed so far from Haskill's files."

Vic stared quizzically over at Ruby. "Where are we going?" she shouted after him.

"To lunch."

Vic walked over to her desk and picked up her jacket. "Did you recognize someone in those photos?"

"Yep." Walt looked back at her as he placed his hat on his head. "And I know someone else who may recognize him as well."

* * *

**I finally had some time to write a chapter this weekend (plus I was in Denver this week and may have been inspired by the mountains in the distance)! Thanks for your patience. Hopefully the extra-long length of this chapter slightly makes up for the amount of time you had to wait.**


	6. Chapter 6

Walt folded himself into the driver's seat of his Bronco and then looked out the passenger-side window. Vic stood a few feet away, her head turned toward her truck, the printed case files sent by Tom Haskill, the sheriff of Sheridan County, in her arms. A look of uncertainty was evident in her furrowed brow.

Releasing his grip on the steering wheel, he lowered the window between them and saw Vic turn in his direction. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose had started to redden in the cool autumn air. As she held his gaze, she sucked in the right side of her lower lip and readjusted the folder she was holding. He stilled under her scrutiny, wondering which of his past sins were being included in her calculated decision regarding whether she would get in his truck.

Walt ran his hand along his thigh as his eyes drifted to the empty passenger seat beside him.

_I think that maybe I shouldn't drive around with you as much._

Every muscle tensed as he waited for her to decide if she was going to drive with him or not, and he jumped slightly when the door suddenly opened. After another glance at her truck, Vic lowered herself into the seat.

Laying the file folder on her lap, and tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, she put on her seat belt and then looked out the windshield without a word.

With a final glance in her direction, Walt shifted the vehicle into drive and pulled out of his spot.

It was the first time she'd been in the Bronco since that disastrous ride to the Red Pony Saturday morning to drop her off at her truck.

Maybe they were making progress.

Or maybe she felt she could handle a three minute ride, and nothing had really changed.

When they pulled into a spot a couple buildings down from the Busy Bee, Vic exited the truck as soon as he put it into park, and didn't wait for him to join her side like she usually did before heading for the entrance. As he stepped into the cafe, he found Vic already searching the room for the proprietor, but Dorothy wasn't in sight. When Vic's gaze landed on the empty stools at the counter, Walt decided he wanted to build on the momentum of her being willing to be around him, and stepped past her, toward an open booth. Sitting opposite each other in a booth would give them more privacy and less opportunity to avoid each other. Although sitting at the counter and not having to look directly at each other might make it easier for them to talk, even if they were more out in the open. There was something to be said about not having to look someone in the eye when you're disappointing them.

He lowered himself onto the bench, facing the door, and watched Vic slide in across from him. She looked around the room before settling her focus on the folder she still gripped in her hand.

Walt took off his hat, flipping it over and placing it on the table to his left. He ran his hand through his hair to smooth it down. Vic made no move to take off her jacket or engage in conversation, and his gut clenched with the fear that she might bolt at any moment. She had still not looked up at him when Dorothy appeared at the table, a Coke and ice tea in hand.

Dorothy placed the beverages before them and took out her order pad and pen. "Long time, Walt."

"What can I say? I missed you."

"I'm sure you did. What are you two having?"

Vic adjusted in her seat. "Actually, we—"

"I'll have the usual."

Vic looked over at Walt.

He shrugged. "I think we should eat. It's past one o'clock. And I know you're hungry."

She held his eyes for a moment and then looked up at Dorothy. "I'll have a cheeseburger, medium, with cheddar. Regular fries." She paused as Dorothy wrote down their order. "And we have a few questions for you when you have a moment."

Dorothy looked up, glancing between the two of them.

"Just let me get your order in, and then I'll come back." She tucked the pen in at the top of her left ear and headed for the counter.

Vic placed the folder on the table, picked up her drink and leaned in. "What are we actually here to talk to Dorothy about? Who did you recognize in the picture?"

Walt's eyes slid to the glass of Coke she grasped with her left hand before looking back up at her. He thought back to another glass she'd held as she'd looked back at him from the other end of his couch.

"Walt?"

He shook his head slightly to dislodge the memory. "Uh, the picture—"

"Ok, what did you want to talk to me about?"

There was a pause and then two pairs of eyes slid toward the owner of the Busy Bee, who was once again standing at the end of the table.

Walt cleared his throat, and then reached across the table and pulled the folder out from under Vic's elbow. He opened the file and removed the pictures Ruby had previously given him.

"Do you recognize this young man?"

Dorothy picked up the pictures, moved the pen above her ear to her pocket and lowered her glasses from their position on top of her head.

"Sure. That's the guy you were asking me about earlier. The one I called you about this morning. From Sheridan. With the dog."

Vic's eyes darted over to Walt's. "How do you know him?"

"I don't. He passed me on the road in his truck when I was driving in this morning. I only saw him through the back window of his cab, but when I was leaving the Busy Bee earlier I encountered him on the way out, only I didn't recognize him without his hat on."

He turned back toward Dorothy. "Did he tell you his name?"

Dorothy shook her head. "No, I don't think so."

Vic peered up at the cafe owner. "Did he say what he was doing in Durant?"

Again, Dorothy looked back and forth between him. "Is this kid tied to the case you were working this weekend?"

Vic's forehead creased in confusion. "This weekend?"

Walt cleared his throat again. "He's part of a case we are looking into today."

"Oh, right...those robberies." Dorothy ran a hand along the side of her neck as she thought back to that morning. "He said he was in town to do some hiking."

Vic looked over at Walt. "That's what he told Haskill he was doing on Saturday. Hiking."

Walt nodded and then returned his attention to Dorothy. "Had he gone hiking already, or was he going hiking today?"

Dorothy looked to the side as she tried to remember the conversation. "He was going to go hiking today. He was waiting for the rain to stop. I think I remember him saying he arrived in town yesterday evening and hung out at the Red Pony last night."

"Did he say anything else or talk to anyone while he was here, other than you?"

"Not really. He ordered breakfast, but kept mostly to himself. He had a book with him and had his phone out. He was texting for a bit."

"What time did he leave?"

"Whenever the rain cleared up."

Vic looked over at Walt. "I think it stopped around 10:00. I was on the phone with you when I noticed it wasn't raining anymore."

Dorothy nodded. "10:00 sounds about right."

Vic again leaned toward Walt. He noticed a little pink still in her cheeks, and intensity in her eyes. "We need to talk to Henry. See if he or anyone else talked to Tyler last night at the Pony."

He nodded before turning back to his right.

"Did he say if he was going hiking with anyone, or where he stayed last night?"

"No. He clammed up when I started asking him about the dog."

Vic looked up at Dorothy quizzically. "What dog?"

"Walt saw him driving around with a dog, unrestrained in the rear of his pickup truck. Asked me to keep an eye out for him because he wanted to give him a talking to." She removed her glasses, repositioning them on the top of her head. "The young fella got a little earful from me on the matter. He didn't open up much after that."

Dorothy glanced back at the clock on the wall. "Let me go check on your order. You probably have places you need to be."

Walt watched Dorothy's retreating back and then turned toward Vic, who was taking a long sip of her Coke. With her eyes lowered, he let his gaze drift to her lips.

Releasing the straw, she straightened and pulled out her notebook and pen as Walt's eyes dropped to the table. "What time did you run into this Tyler kid when you were leaving the Bee this morning?"

He picked up his ice tea and looked over at the counter. "I remember looking up at the clock before I left to head to the station. It was a few minutes before 9:00."

"So that means Tyler was sitting here at the cafe while AJ's was being robbed."

Walt ran his hand along his jaw, his fingers cool against his skin from the glass he'd been holding. "Yep. It seems that way."

"So if he wasn't the one who robbed the liquor store, and he was hiking Saturday morning during those three robberies in Sheridan, are we still interested in finding him?"

"I find it a little strange that he was in the Sheridan area when those three robberies occurred and down here in Durant at the same time as these robberies."

He stirred his ice tea with his straw, watching the ice cubes bump into each other. "Plus there is a confirmed connection between Tyler and one of the Sheridan victims."

Vic's attention was drawn to the end of the table as Dorothy stepped up with two plates. Walt moved the file folder out of the way as Dorothy placed meatloaf and mashed potatoes before him.

He dug in hungrily. "Thanks."

Dorothy looked down at Vic and then over at Walt. "Anything else you wanted to ask me?"

Walt shook his head as he swallowed. "Nope. But if we think of anything I'll give you a call, and if you remember anything, do the same."

"Sure thing." Dorothy looked up as the front door to the cafe opened. "Excuse me." She walked over to the new customers to seat them at a table.

Vic had opened the file and was taking a few notes while she ate her burger.

"What did Dorothy mean earlier, about the case we worked this weekend?"

Walt's hand stilled, his fork clinking against the plate. After a moment he dropped his eyes and ran his other hand along the hair at the back of his neck.

"Oh...when I...uh...when I came in Saturday morning to pick up our coffee she...uh...she recognized your coffee order and assumed that we were working a case over the weekend." He lifted his gaze and found her eyes on him. "I...I didn't correct her."

She held his eyes for a moment. "That hadn't occurred to you? That she would recognize my coffee order, and wonder why you were ordering it on a Saturday morning?" The corners of her mouth tipped upwards, and her eyes softened a fraction.

A smile. Or at least a half-smile. Another first since they parted on Saturday. Some of the tightness in Walt's chest eased and the corners of his mouth lifted, mirroring hers. "Not until I walked in the door. But it was too late. Dorothy had already spotted me."

She leaned slightly into the table, raising a fry in the air and pointing it at him. "You could have ordered two black coffees and added milk and sugar to mine back at the cabin."

He found himself leaning in as well. "I wasn't thinking all that clearly that morning, so it didn't occur to me."

He watched her pop the fry in her mouth. "You should have seen me at the grocery store before that. I was quite the indecisive mess. You're lucky I came back with anything resembling a meal. Next time you—"

Vic's eyes flashed and widened slightly. The half-smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Walt abruptly ended his sentence, dropping his eyes as he gripped the edge of the bench he was sitting on with both hands. When he finally lifted his gaze, he found Vic sitting stiffly and scanning the sheet of paper in front of her.

"Vic, I—"

"Artie's Food Depot was robbed around 8:20 Saturday morning. Only person working at the time was Nick Waters, twenty-two years old. Reported that the store was robbed by an armed man wearing a mask. Just under three hundred dollars in the register at the time."

Walt ran both of his hands along his jeans as Vic turned to the next page. While his palms had moistened, his mouth had gone dry, so he reached for his ice tea as he willed himself to focus on what she was saying.

"Nick's wrists, ankles and eyes were all wrapped with duct tape when he was found by his father, Artie, the owner of the store."

She wrote something in her notebook and then continued to read. "There were no witnesses. No video."

She looked up. "The kid came away from the whole thing with two broken ribs, a broken finger and a concussion."

The softness was gone from her eyes, but the intensity was still there.

Walt reached into the folder and pulled out the next file, briefly scanning its contents.

"Brandt Bicycle and Outdoor Gear Shop was hit shortly after it opened at 9:00 am Saturday morning."

Walt looked up. "Does it say whether the Food Depot was open at the time it was robbed?"

Vic searched the papers in her hands. "Yep. It opened at 8:00."

"So other than Ace Hardware here in Durant, all the stores were hit after they opened. No forced entry."

"Well, Ace Hardware may have been closed, but since the front door wasn't locked, there was no forced entry involved there either."

Walt nodded as he looked down at the papers again.

"The only employee in the bicycle shop that morning was Evan Brandt. Also twenty-two. His older brother James owns the store."

After reading the rest of the page, Walt continued. "Like the rest, he was bound with duct tape. He was able to free himself and call the sheriff's department. He suffered a broken wrist. The thief got away with a little over two hundred and fifty dollars. Nothing else was taken from the store."

Vic finished writing in her notebook and then reached to her left, pulled out the remaining papers in the folder and began perusing them. Walt briefly watched her, unnoticed by Vic as she focused on the information before her. When she lifted her head, he dropped his eyes back to his plate and loaded his fork up.

"Rich's Auto Repair shop was the third store to be hit, just before 10:00 am Saturday morning. The shop had been open a couple hours when it was robbed. There were others working, but they were in the garage at the time. Rich Sollinger, the owner, was the only one in front when the masked man entered. After the guy got Rich to hand over the three hundred dollars in the till, he forced him to open the safe. Walked away with four thousand and change."

Vic's eyes moved further down the page.

"Looks like he tied Rich up with duct tape and then started wailing on him with the bat Haskill mentioned. He suffered a broken leg, cracked ribs and a few broken fingers." Her eyes flicked down the page. "And like the others, Rich didn't see the guy arrive, or what kind of car he drove."

"What does it say about his stepson Tyler?"

"Not much. And Tyler's not his stepson. Rich lives with Tyler's mom but they never married. Tyler's full name is Tyler Daniels. It says Rich thinks that Tyler is responsible because, I quote 'The little shit has had it in for me since the day I moved in with his mom almost nine years ago. And I think he totally has it in him to pull this off. He's a smart son of a bitch and not right in that damn head of his. Plus he knows the shop has a safe and where it is."

She looked up at Walt again, rolling her eyes. "Sounds like a nice guy. Can't understand why someone would want to kick his ass."

Vic added another comment in her book and then reviewed her notes. "So we have three stores that were robbed in Sheridan, all in the same morning, within a two hour period. And the four stores in Durant were robbed two days later, within a three to three-and-half hour span. Seven stores total. Only the two gas stations were similar in type. The gas stations are open 24/7, but the other five stores were robbed within two hours of opening, or just before opening in the case of the hardware store."

She looked up at Walt. "Other than the auto repair shop, the other six stores were ones that could be opened and manned by only one employee. And of the seven stores, four of them had an employee at the counter who was either the owner or related to the owner."

He took a bite, his brain chugging trough the details as he chewed. "And we don't know if or how Tyler connects to any of this other than the fact that Rich is his mother's boyfriend, and he's not too fond of the kid."

"Tyler might not be involved at all. His mother's boyfriend may just have a beef with him, and suggested him as the culprit because of it. He does come off as a dick in the report, calling Tyler a 'little shit.' Tyler could have planned a hiking weekend in Sheridan and Durant that coincidently coincided with the locations of the robberies."

She paused. "Or he may be involved, but we don't know how, since he has alibis for four of the robberies."

"Actually..."

Vic raised an eyebrow.

"He passed me on the road on the way into town around 8:30 this morning. And I parked behind his truck outside the Bee a short while later. So if the robbery at The Filling Station occurred around 8:15, and the break-in at Ace Hardware was logged from 8:33 - 8:37, I don't think Tyler had the time to get to and from either of these stores and pull it off."

Vic raised an eyebrow. "So are you saying he wasn't involved with the robberies? That he is just in town by coincidence?"

"I'm saying he can't be the one who directly robbed the stores. Doesn't mean he wasn't involved. We just need to determine his motive, and who his partner in crime is."

Vic unzipped her coat, which did not go unnoticed by Walt. "Let's say Tyler was involved, did he and his partner do it because they needed money? In the end they walked away with a little under fifty-eight hundred dollars. They could have made more money hitting the stores at a different time, or hitting different stores altogether."

Walt picked up the file for the robbery at the auto repair shop as he stirred his ice tea with his straw. His hand stilled as he saw Vic reach across her plate and dip a few french fries in the gravy on top of his mashed potatoes. He didn't think she realized what she had done and tried to quickly look away before he brought attention to it.

She ate the gravy-laden fries and took a sip of her Coke. "Was it even Tyler's idea? Is it a bet? A fraternity hazing requirement? Is he being forced to do it?"

Again Vic dipped her fries in his gravy. "And if he has a partner, who is it, and why is his partner doing all the heavy lifting, with Tyler on the sidelines solidifying his alibis?"

Walt sliced through the edge of his meatloaf with his fork, keeping his eyes on the file and away from his mashed potatoes. "Maybe we need to look at this from another angle. Maybe instead of the stores being the aim or the money being the goal, maybe it's the employees behind the counter who were the targets."

Vic arched an eyebrow.

He lifted the fork to his mouth but paused. "Does it say in the file where Nick went to school?"

She pulled one of the papers closer. "Yep. Graduated from Sheridan High School four years ago. Received his associate degree two years ago from Sheridan College." She held up a picture of Nick for Walt to see. "Where did Evan go to school?"

Walt sorted through the file until he found what he was looking for. He held up Evan's picture. "Sheridan High School. Graduated four years ago." He looked up. "Must have been in the same class as Nick."

"Did he go to college?"

Walt nodded. "MSU Billings. Graduated in May."

He raised his eyes to Vic. "One of the Durant cashiers is a student at MSU Billings, right?"

"Yep. Dylan. The kid from Ace Hardware. He would have been a freshman Evan's senior year."

"Does it say where Tyler went to high school, or if he's currently going to college?"

Vic rubbed her hand across her forehead and she once again looked at the file. "Nope. There's nothing else in here other than the name of the club he was hiking with on Saturday. The Trailhead Outdoor Club. And it lists a couple names of members who vouched for him." She leaned back in her seat. "Haskill said earlier that Tyler is nineteen or twenty, which makes him younger than both Nick and Evan. He probably graduated from high school a year or two ago. Is Sheridan High the only high school in Sheridan?"

"No. It has a few. Sheridan is about four times the size of Durant."

"Well, even if Tyler went to Sheridan High School, he would have overlapped with Nick and Evan only a year, maybe two."

She looked back at her notebook. "So as far as the employees go, Rich Sollinger aside, we have two employees in Sheridan who both went to Sheridan High. And we have four employees here in Durant who all went to Durant High. Well, one that is a senior, and three others that graduated a year or two ago."

She looked across the table at Walt. "And other than Dylan and Evan, who overlapped at MSU Billings for one year, everyone else goes to, or went to, a different college, in a different location."

She tapped her pen on her notebook. "Right now we don't know if there is a connection between any of them other than some of them attending the same school for a period of time. Some of the Durant kids admitted they knew some of the others during high school, but that's about it. And we have no idea where Tyler went to high school or is going to college, what his relationship is with any of them other than Rich, or if he even knows the kids in Durant."

Walt glanced over at the files that were spread across the table. "I think we need to talk to Tom Haskill again."

He returned his attention to Vic. "I also think we should talk with the three victims up in Sheridan County. And we should look into Tyler's financial situation."

Vic ran her napkin over her fingers as she nodded in agreement. "And we need to find Tyler to question him ourselves." She looked around the room. "But we have no idea where he is hiking right now, or if he's even hiking. And even if he is indeed hiking, we have no idea if he's coming back to Durant when he's done, or heading home to Sheridan, or heading somewhere else altogether."

Walt straightened the papers and placed them back in the folder. "Maybe Henry or someone else at the bar talked to Tyler last night and has some more insight into his whereabouts."

They stood at the same time, each reaching into their wallets to pay for their meal. Vic zipped her coat back up, scooped up the folder and headed for the front of the cafe. Walt followed her, but paused as she opened the door, their discussion at the table and an image of Tyler popping into his head. He turned and searched the room for Dorothy. When he caught the Busy Bee owner's attention, he took a step toward her, with Vic behind him in the doorway.

"Was Tyler wearing a red baseball cap at any point this morning? I saw him wearing one earlier, while he was driving by, but he wasn't wearing it when I ran into him when I was leaving."

Dorothy paused. "Yeah, he put on a red cap before he paid."

"Did it say T-Birds on the front of it?"

Dorothy paused again, and then nodded. "It might have. Does that mean anything?"

"It might. Thanks."

He adjusted his hat so that it sat more securely on his head and then joined Vic outside on the sidewalk. The cool October air cut through the seams of his clothing, and he buried his hands in his coat pockets as they walked toward his truck.

She looked up at him as they reached the Bronco. "T-Birds? What's that all about?"

He made his way to the other side of the vehicle. "I was thinking about the school colors of all the colleges these kids go to or went to. I remember you writing down that Kyle goes to Casper College. The school colors are red and white, and it's the Casper College T-Birds."

"The file doesn't say anything about Tyler going to Casper College."

Walt paused outside his open driver-side door.

"I think we need to make a stop at the hospital before we go over to the Red Pony."

XX

"I don't know him."

Vic handed him another picture. "You sure? Tyler Daniels."

"I'm sure."

"He's around your age."

"Do you know every forty-year old woman in Sheridan, just because you're the same age?"

Vic's eyes widened slightly as her grip on the pictures tightened. Walt tried to hide his smile.

"I'm not for—" She stopped and took a breath. "I'm just saying that you might have come across him in some of the sports you played or other extra-curricular activities, given you guys are the same age."

"Nope. I've never met him."

"He doesn't go to Casper College with you?"

"If he does, I don't know him. There's like four thousand students who go there. I don't know them all."

"You never saw him come into The Filling Station to fill up, or to purchase anything? Or seen anybody come in recently wearing a red T-Birds hat?"

Kyle shook his head.

"What about Nick Waters or Evan Brandt? They're also from Sheridan. About three years older than you." She handed him their pictures from the file folder.

Kyle rubbed his head as he stare at the photos, careful to stay away from the stitches. "Nope, don't know them either." And before Vic could ask, he added "I'm sure."

She held up another photo. "How about this guy? Rich Sollinger. Owns Rich's Auto Repair shop in Sheridan."

Kyle took in the picture and then shook his head.

Vic looked over at Walt from her position at the side of Kyle's hospital bed. Walt stood in the doorway, partly to give Vic space to ask Kyle questions without Kyle feeling like he was being ganged up on, and partly to keep an eye out for Kyle's parents who they had seen filling out paperwork as they were coming in. They had felt that Kyle might be more open with them if his parents weren't around.

Walt stepped forward. "What about Tuck Jensen, Dylan Matthews or Andy Bowman? They're from Durant."

Kyle glanced between Walt and Vic. "She already asked me about them earlier. Well not about the middle one."

"Dylan?"

"Yeah Dylan. We were in the same grade at Durant, but we didn't really hang out."

"And Tuck and Andy?"

Kyle pointed in Vic's direction with his thumb. "Like I already told her, Tuck and I played football together. He was a year ahead of me at Durant. And that Andy kid was a loser a couple years younger than me. I didn't really know him."

Walt rotated his hat in his hands. "You knew him well enough to think he was a loser."

"I just meant he wasn't that popular. I haven't seen him since I graduated."

At that moment Kyle's parents walked into the room.

They stopped in the doorway, surprise clearly on their faces. Kyle's father looked back and forth between the two of them. "Sheriff Longmire. Deputy Moretti, What are you doing here?"

Walt turned around and stepped forward, slightly regretting that he had left his post at the door when he had moved closer to the bed to ask Kyle questions. "We just had a few more questions for Kyle." He paused as he glanced between the Waltons and their son, and then walked over to Vic and took the file folder from her hands.

"Do you know Tyler Daniels? He's a boy Kyle's age that lives up in Sheridan?" He handed them Tyler's picture.

They both studied the photo and then handed it back, each shaking their head. Kyle's father glanced over at Vic. "Does this kid have anything to do with what happened to my son?"

Walt slipped the picture back into the file as Vic took a step closer. "For now he's just a person of interest."

Walt looked over at Vic and then back at the doorway where Kyle's parents still stood. "Deputy Moretti and I need to head out. If any of you remember anything, please call the station. I believe Deputy Moretti gave you the number earlier."

Vic reached his side as the Waltons stepped further into the room to clear the path to the door. With a final look back at Kyle, Walt followed Vic out into the hallway.

When they were a few doors down Vic stopped in her tracks and looked back at the doorway to the room they had just left. "I didn't realize what a pleasant and helpful young man Kyle was when I talked to him earlier."

Walt recognized the sarcasm in her voice. "He could still be reeling from what happened. Not just his injuries, but being the victim of a crime."

Vic's chin dropped towards her chest. "I know."

Walt looked down at her, and then with a glance in both directions stepped forward and placed his hand on her arm, just above her elbow. "You ok?"

Vic's gaze went to Walt's hand but she didn't look up. After a moment Walt dropped his hand, and, realizing how close he was standing, took a step back.

"Yeah, just tired. It's been a long day, and it's barely mid-afternoon."

"Still up for talking to Tuck? I can handle it myself if you're not."

Vic took another step back. "No, I'm up for it. I'm going to run to the restroom and then I'll join you."

Walt's eyes followed her as she turned and began walking down the hall.

He thought he would take a risk. "Don't forget...you're forty years old. You need to start taking it easy at this age."

A pause and then Vic snorted. The laugh reached her eyes as she looked back at Walt. He could not help himself from smiling in return.

"Watch it Longmire. You should never bring up a woman's age." The mirth was still in her eyes as she turned. "Now I'm going to go rinse my face, and hopefully wash away the six years I've apparently aged today...so Tuck doesn't confuse me as being your age next. Being mistaken for forty is bad enough, but sixty-two...I don't know if I could handle it."

He laughed as he watched her receding back. "I'm not sixty-two."

"Oh believe me...I know." And then she turned the corner and was out of sight.

Maybe, just maybe they were making progress.

XX

"How's Tuck doing?"

AJ dropped his head, his shoulders slumping. "He's handling all this better than I am."

"He's going to be ok. He's a strong kid."

AJ looked to his right, at the doorway to his son's room halfway down the hall.

Walt watched the worry lines on AJ's face deepen. "What does the doctor say?"

"They don't think he needs surgery on his nose, but they're calling in a specialist for his hand." AJ ran his hand across both eyes. "God, Walt. What if the damage is so bad he can't play anymore? I don't know what that will do to him. He's lost so much already."

Walt shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"This year...this year has already been so tough...for both of us. With Olivia...I haven't really...and now this. I'm not sure how much more I can take." He looked up, his eyes filled with sorrow Walt could relate to. "How did you get through it?"

Walt looked down at the hat in his hands.

"Day by day."

"Does it get any easier? Some days I feel like I'm drowning. And when I got the phone call from Ruby this morning...I feel so helpless. Like I can't protect anyone I care about."

He shook his head slightly. "I should have been the one in the store this morning. But Tuck insisted he would open and cover the morning shift before heading back to school. I shouldn't...I shouldn't have agreed. And with Olivia, I..." AJ's head again dropped.

"You can't blame yourself. For Olivia or Tuck. There will always be things beyond your control."

"I know. But knowing that doesn't make it any easier. Doesn't make me feel any less responsible."

He saw AJ's eyes start to water. Walt lifted his hand and placed it on AJ's left shoulder. As AJ started to shake, Walt slid his hand across his shoulder to the back of his neck and took a step closer, so that his chest made contact with AJ's side.

Out of the corner of his eye Walt saw movement and he looked up to see Vic rounding the corner. She came to a stop at the other end of the hallway, her eyes on them. She stood for a moment holding Walt's gaze, and then with a glance at AJ, turned and walked in the other direction, out of sight.

He looked down at AJ again. "We have a few more questions for Tuck. Is he up for talking to us?"

AJ wiped his eyes and then took a step back as Walt dropped his hand.

"Yeah, I think so."

"I'll go grab Deputy Moretti, and you can let Tuck know we're here."

AJ stood staring down the hallway in the direction of Tuck's room.

"Ok?"

A pause. "Ok."

Walt placed his hand once again on AJ's shoulder. After a moment he released his hold and then started walking down the hallway in the direction he had seen Vic go. "I'll be right back."

XX

"I gave both Branch and Ferg a call, and told them everything we've learned so far. Branch is going to head back to the hardware store now that we know that it was duct tape that was stolen to see if he can uncover any other information."

"Ok."

Vic studied him closely. "I knew you knew AJ, but I didn't know you _knew_ him."

Walt looked over at her as they turned the corner. "We went to high school together. He was also on the football team."

"Oh yeah? Was any good?"

"Yep."

"Did he go on to play in college like you?"

"He got a scholarship to play at Colorado. But his dad got sick just before the start of his freshman year and he ended up staying in Durant to help out his family."

"So Tuck has the shot to play college ball that he never got. Is that making this situation even more difficult...given Tuck's injuries?"

"That may be part of it. But AJ's wife, Tuck's mom, was killed in a car accident in May. It's been a tough year all around."

Vic lifted her eyebrows. "I don't remember that accident."

"It wasn't in Absaroka County. AJ and Olivia were driving Tuck and his stuff home when school ended. They were in separate vehicles. Tuck was in the truck with AJ. Olivia's car was hit by another driver."

"Was there an investigation?"

"Yep. They ended up determining it was an accident."

"Were you involved in the investigation?"

"No...when the accident happened I was..." He looked down. "It was five months ago...when everything with Henry, and Ridges and Barlow was going down. I was a little...preoccupied."

"Oh."

They had stopped one room down from Tuck's. Vic was looking up at him, standing close but not touching.

After a few moments passed, she looked at the door to Tuck's room. "Ready to go in?"

"Yep."

Walt led the way into the room, walking around to the right side of the bed, while Vic stayed at the foot of the bed, a few feet from the door.

Tuck looked up at Walt, his face more swollen than when Walt had last seen him a couple hours ago. "Hi Sheriff."

"Hi." Walt's eyes stayed on him for a moment taking in the bruising and swelling. "Uh...Tuck, this is Deputy Moretti. We're both working on your case."

Tuck nodded at Vic as he glanced her way.

Vic smiled over at him.

"Tuck, similar to today's robberies, there were three other robberies in Sheridan on Saturday morning. We wanted to ask you if you knew any of the individuals involved."

"Ok."

Vic stepped forward with the file and handed the stack of pictures to Walt.

He held up Nick's picture. "Do you know this young man? His name is Nick Waters. He's a couple years older than you."

Tuck shook his head. "I don't think so."

Walt pulled out the next picture. "This is Evan Brandt. He's also a couple years older than you."

Tuck paused and then looked up. "These two guys are responsible for the robberies? The ones here too?"

"Oh...no. They were each working at one of the stores that were robbed in Sheridan. They also were injured."

Tuck's eyes stayed on the photo, and Walt sensed something in his stare.

"Do you know Evan?"

Tuck's eyes flicked up to Walt's. "I've never met him before."

Walt watched Tuck as he held his eyes. He then placed Evan's picture back in the stack and held up Rich's photo. "How about him? Rich Sollinger."

Tuck shook his head. "No."

Finally, Walt held up Tyler's picture. "Tyler Daniels. He's a year younger than you."

Tuck's gaze shifted to Vic momentarily, and then landed on the picture in Walt's hand. He shook his head. "I don't know him."

Walt looked over at Vic and then back at Tuck. "Tuck, I didn't get a chance earlier to ask if you knew the other boys who were working at the stores that were robbed here in Durant this morning. They all went to Durant High around the time you did, give or take a year or two. Kyle Walton, Dylan Matthews and Andy Bowman."

"I knew Kyle. He played football with me." He paused. "Dylan Matthew sounds familiar, but I can't picture him." He paused again. "I don't remember an Andy Bowman."

"Thanks." Walt continued to scan Tuck's face. "How are you doing with all that's happened?"

"I..." Walt saw Tuck's eyes start to well up. Tuck lifted his good hand to his face, wincing as his fingers came into contact with his swollen nose.

He looked back up at Walt. "I've been better."

"How's the pain level. Have they been helping you with that?"

Tuck nodded.

Walt placed his hand on Tuck's shoulder, similar to how he had with the boy's father in the hallway. "Tuck, if you ever want to talk about...anything, you know where to find me. My door is always open."

Tuck nodded again. "Ok. Thanks."

"Deputy Moretti and I need to go talk to some people, but if we learn anything new, we'll let you know. If you remember anything new, please call the station. Your father has the number."

Walt gave one final look at Tuck, and then followed Vic out of the room. When they turned the corner, Walt slowed to a stop.

Vic stopped and looked back at him. "What?"

"I got a sense that Tuck recognized Evan, despite the fact that he said he didn't know him."

"He said he had never met him. He never said he didn't know him."

Walt sucked in his lower lip, filing away that information as he placed his hat on his head.

"Let's go talk to Henry and see if we can get another lead."

XX

Walt shut his driver's side door, and looked across the hood at Vic, expecting her to be well on her way to the entrance of the Red Pony. Instead he found her staring into the parking lot. He walked around the truck, but she didn't turn her head as he approached. He followed her line of sight and paused. Was she thinking back to Saturday morning, and the state of things between them when he had dropped her off next to her truck?

"Vic?"

She turned, startled, as if she hadn't heard him walk over. After a moment she lifted her chin, pulled her shoulders back and started heading for the front door.

Walt scurried after her but after a few steps suddenly pulled up short. Vic, sensing his change in movement, turned around.

"What?

"That's Tyler's truck."

"Which one?"

"The grey one."

Vic walked back to his side, and then looked in the direction he was looking.

"You sure?"

Walt didn't answer as he made his way toward the Chevy. He glanced in the bed of the truck but found it empty. He stepped to the passenger door and peered in. A furry head greeted him, and he heard a low whine through the partially cracked window.

"I'm sure."

He glanced around the inside of the cab, seeing a backpack on the floor in front of the passenger seat, but nothing else.

He heard Vic over his left shoulder. "Let's go inside and find him."

When they pushed through the swinging doors at the entrance he saw Vic hesitate a moment as she looked in the direction of the bar. Images from their time at the Red Pony Friday night suddenly flooded his thoughts and he looked down at his boots and tried to catch his breath. He snuck a look over at Vic but her wall was up, and she looked back at him with a neutral expression. All sense of progress that he had felt between them earlier vanished in that look.

"See him anywhere?"

He paused one more moment on her face and then tore his eyes away. He glanced around the room and was about to say he didn't see Tyler anywhere when he landed on the person in question, sitting at the bar holding a longneck in his hands. Walt noted that he wasn't wearing the red baseball cap.

"At the bar. In the blue t-shirt."

They approached the bar, unnoticed by Tyler, who stared straight ahead. Vic slid on to the stool on Tyler's right, grabbing the bottle of beer from his hands.

Tyler whipped his head to the side and looked at Vic with accusing eyes. "Hey!"

"Hey what? You're underage."

Tyler continued to stare at her, his eyes dropping to her uniform shirt.

Walt lowered himself onto the stool to Tyler's left.

"How was your hike, Tyler?"

Tyler swiveled to his left. His quizzical look smoothed into one of recognition as he took Walt in. "Uh...it was great."

"Did you get rained on?"

"No."

"Where did you go hiking?"

A pause. "The trail from Circle Park to Willow Lake and back."

Vic leaned forward. "I've hiked that one. What did you think?"

He turned, and again paused as he looked at her. "Not as strenuous as I'd expected it to be. Good views, but not the best I've seen in the Big Horns."

Walt removed his hat and placed it on the bar to his left. "Aren't you going to ask how we know your name or the fact that you were out hiking today."

Tyler swung his head in Walt's direction. "You're the sheriff. Isn't it your job to know what's going on in your county?"

Walt held his eyes.

"Aren't you going to ask how I know you're the sheriff?"

"I'm guessing you remember my truck from when you decided to pass it this morning. And then got another look at it when I was parked behind you on Main Street. And you might have got a look at my badge just now."

Vic again leaned closer. "What'ya doing in Durant, Tyler?"

With a final glance at Walt, he turned toward Vic. "We just talked about it. Hiking."

"You decided to drive down to Absaroka County for an eight mile hike, even though you're not too far from your own set of trailheads up in Sheridan?"

"I like branching out and trying trails I haven't done before."

"How long have you been into hiking?"

"A few years, I guess."

Vic eyed him. "It took you a few years to try the Circle Park trail?"

"Like you said, I have a lot of trail options. Your trail didn't make it on my list until now."

Walt rotated on his stool so he faced the room but could still look at Tyler. "Does hiking get in the way of your studies?"

"My studies?"

"College?"

Tyler smiled. "I think my studies would get in the way of my hiking...if I was in college."

"You're not in school? I heard you were a smart kid."

"I'm taking some time off. What do they call it...'an off year'?"

"Trying to find yourself?"

"Something like that?"

"Trying to figure out what you want to do with your life?"

"Sure."

"Come up with any answers yet?"

"I'm working on it."

Vic signaled one of the bartenders. "What have you been doing...during this off year?"

Tyler looked back and forth between Vic and Walt. "What I'm doing here. Well not _here_ here. But hiking."

One of the bartenders stepped up. Vic looked up at him. "Hey John, can I get a glass of water?"

As John stepped away she turned back toward Tyler. "Do you usually go hiking alone? I don't hear you talking about going with a group today."

"It depends."

Walt turned to face Tyler. "It depends on what?"

"Where I am, and who's around. And how I'm feeling."

"No one was around today?"

"I went with a group on Saturday. Decided I wanted to do this trail by myself."

"You referring to the Trailhead Outdoor Club you're a member of?"

Tyler blinked.

"You said it's my job as sheriff to know what's going on."

Tyler stayed silent.

Vic took a sip of the water John had handed her. "Is hiking the only thing your outdoor club does?"

Tyler watched her drink her water for a moment. "We also do rock climbing, mountain biking, camping, white water rafting..."

"And where do you do most of this outdoor activity?"

"Depends. Mostly in Wyoming and Montana, but we've planned trips to other states as well."

"So you're taking some time off school to hike, climb and bike?"

"And find myself."

Walt ran his hand along his thigh as he looked at the tables of patrons. "How have you been supporting yourself during this time?"

"I've picked up work here and there."

"Any specific type of work?"

"Depends. In the summer I did some instruction and guiding for outdoor groups."

"Where do you live when you're not traveling around on one of your adventures?"

"With my mom."

"She live in Sheridan?"

"Yep."

"That doesn't seem...constraining? Living with your mom?"

"You can't beat the price."

"And where are you staying while you visit our neck of the woods?"

"At one of your fine motels."

"Which one exactly?"

Tyler paused. The Big Horn motel. You know it?"

Walt nodded. "You can afford staying at a motel? Why not camp? Didn't you list camping as one of the activities your outdoor group loves to do?"

"Don't know if you noticed, but it rained a ton this weekend, and this morning. I decided I wanted a dry night's sleep."

"You don't have any friends here in Durant you could have stayed with?"

"Nope. Don't really know anyone here...unless you're offering up your couch."

"You didn't stay at the motel just so you'd have a confirmed record of where you were staying?"

"A confirmed record?"

"Proof."

"Why would I need proof?"

Walt held his gaze. "Well you see, Tyler, we've had some criminal activity in Durant this morning. This very morning that you so happen to be visiting our lovely neck of the woods. So it got us wondering if you might have been participating in this criminal activity, being the adventurer that you are."

"Criminal activity? What kind of criminal activity?"

Vic moved her empty water glass to the side. "We had a few stores that were robbed. And some employees that were injured in the process."

"Well it couldn't have been me. I was hiking."

"It couldn't have been you, because you were hiking?"

"Yep."

"You were hiking by yourself. How do we know you were actually hiking?"

Tyler straightened a bit, perhaps sensing their seriousness. "I can describe the trail. And there were others I passed on the trail...in both directions. Plus I took pictures." He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Want to see them?"

Walt straightened. "What if I said your hiking occurred after the stores were robbed, and therefore not a good alibi."

"Well, it still couldn't be me."

"How do you know? I didn't tell you what times the stores were robbed."

"Well I know what I was and wasn't doing this morning, regardless of when the stores were robbed."

"And what were you doing at 6:15 this morning?"

"I was sleeping."

"Ah. Another activity you were doing alone. Or at least I assume you were alone?"

"I was."

"So you have no proof."

"My truck was parked outside my room until I headed into town. I'm sure the motel has video evidence of that. And I ran into someone that worked there as I was leaving, so you could check with him. And of course you saw me driving into town, and where I parked. And that waitress at the restaurant could tell you how long I stayed before leaving for the trail."

"You weren't in your truck when I parked behind it, and you didn't enter the Busy Bee for another twenty minutes. Where were you during that time?"

"At that convenience store a few buildings down. Getting some supplies for my hike, since I'd be hiking over lunch. You can ask the guy that works there."

"Isn't it convenient that you have all these people...all these strangers...who can vouch for your whereabouts."

"Yeah, I guess."

"And you rattled off your proof of your whereabouts very quickly...almost like you might have had it prepared."

"I just knew what I was doing this morning, and didn't want you thinking I had anything to do with these robberies."

Walt looked over at Vic. "We have some pictures to show you."

Vic pulled out her phone, looking over at Walt. "Ruby sent me some pictures of the local guys."

She pulled up a picture of Tuck on her phone. "Do you know him? His name is Tuck Jensen."

Tyler leaned over the phone to look at the picture and then shook his head. "No."

She pulled up Kyle's picture. "How about him? His name is Kyle Walton."

He shook his head.

She swiped to the next picture. "And this one? His name is Dylan Matthews."

He shook his head again.

One more swipe. "And this guy? This is Andy Bowman."

"Nope."

Vic pulled out photos from the folder. "Where did you go to high school, Tyler?"

He looked up at her. "Sheridan High School"

"When did you graduate?"

"A year ago. Well I guess it's been a little over a year."

She placed Nick's picture down on the bar. "This is Nick Waters. Know him?"

He looked down at the photo. "Nope. But I told that to the deputy in Sheridan when he asked me this weekend. Which you probably already know."

"And what about Evan Brandt. Know him?"

Tyler briefly looked at the picture. "Still don't know him."

"And what about him?" She placed Rich's picture before Tyler.

Tyler silently took in the picture. "That's my mom's boyfriend."

"And what's your relationship with your mom's boyfriend like? You two get along?"

"Nope, but again you probably already know that. My not liking him has nothing to do with what happened to him on Saturday."

"You sure you had nothing to do with what happened at Rich's shop?"

"Since you've apparently been talking to the sheriff's department up in Sheridan, you probably already know that I was hiking with my outdoor club at the time Rich's shop was robbed."

Vic looked over at Walt as she put the pictures back in the folder.

Walt shifted his gaze to Tyler. "What are your plans for the rest of the day, Tyler?"

"Well my next step is to eat the food I ordered before you came in. I'm guessing it's going to be ready any moment."

"And after that?"

"I was planning to stay another night. Get some more hiking in tomorrow."

"And which trail will you be hiking tomorrow?"

"Any recommendations?"

"We want you to stick around why we follow up with those you say could vouch for you, so don't go too far."

Vic reached over and picked up Tyler's cell phone. "And we might need to call you, so let me give you my number and get yours."

She began typing into his phone.

Walt continued. "How does that sound, Tyler. Not going too far in case we have some more questions for you? If you're innocent, you should be happy to assist us, right?"

Tyler glanced between them.

Walt cocked an eyebrow. "Do we have a deal Tyler?"

Vic's phone rang. "Now I have your number in my phone, and I've put both my cell phone number and my number at the station in your contact list. Deputy Moretti."

Tyler reached out and took the phone from her hands.

Vic smiled as she stood. "Enjoy the rest of your stay, Tyler. We're so glad you've chosen to make Durant one of your stops for your outdoor adventures. We'll be in touch...we're sure of it."

"Oh, one last thing." Walt stood and put his hat on his head as Tyler turned his way.

"For an outdoorsy person like yourself, who you would think valued nature, I'm surprised at how you treat your dog."

Tyler stared up at him but said nothing.

"What does your girlfriend think about you driving around with the dog unleashed in the back of your truck?"

"My girlfriend?"

"It's your girlfriend's dog, right? That's what Dorothy told us you told her."

Tyler held Walt's eyes. "Yep."

"Well I'm guessing your girlfriend doesn't know how you treat her dog. I'm suggesting you keep him in the cab of your truck from now on, allergies or not, or leave him at home."

Tyler continued to silently look up at him.

"Got it?"

"Got it."

Vic picked up Tyler's beer. "And I'm just going to let the proprietor of this establishment know that you're underage and shouldn't be served. We can also ask him when your food order is going to be ready, if you like."

Walt kept his eyes on Tyler as they made their way toward Henry's office. As they reached the end of the bar, Henry stepped out.

"Hey Henry."

"Vic. Walt." He took note of Vic's uniform. "What brings you two here?"

Walt watched Henry look between the two of them. "We have a few robbery cases we're working on today."

"I have heard."

Walt looked over at the bar. "That kid in the blue t-shirt sitting at your bar is a person of interest right now. Could you do us a favor? Could you try to keep him here for at least an hour? But he's underage, so don't serve him."

He looked over at Vic. "We should call Haskill and see if he can send one of his deputies down here to keep a watch on Tyler. So we can keep tabs on his whereabouts."

He looked down at the file in Vic's hand. "And we can ask Haskill if he can arrange for us to meet with the three Sheridan victims tomorrow so we can ask them a few questions."

All three stood watching Tyler as he sat at the bar ignoring them.

"You two look exhausted. Has it been a rough day with these cases?"

Walt looked over at Vic who did not look back at him. He brought his eyes back to Henry. "Yep."

"Well at least you survived that storm this weekend. I did not know how you fared on that drive home Friday night. I could not see anything out the windows for a while. I was glad to see you were able to pick up your truck the next morning, Vic. It let me know you both made it home safely, since a certain friend of mine could not be bothered to call and tell me such."

Vic dropped her head slightly as she shifted. "I'm going to call Haskill. Can I use your office Henry? It's quieter in there."

"Yes." Vic had not waited for his response and was already behind the closed door before Walt took his next breath.

Henry's eyes flashed to his. "What did I miss? Is there something going on between you two? Are you disagreeing about something?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now, Henry."

Walt felt the burden of his friend's silent stare, but refused to give in.

"Have you at least tried to talk about it with her?"

He looked Henry in the eye, his silence giving Henry his answer.

XX

At the top of the stairs, Walt led them right into his office through the back door. He turned on the light and stepped immediately in front of the wall, scanning its contents.

Vic handed him the folder.

He took the folder from her but continued to look at what had already been posted. He then reached into the file, pulled out one of the pictures of Tyler, tore off a piece of tape and placed the photo at the top.

He leaned back against the table. "Since I have to wait around until I hear that the deputy Haskill sent made it to Durant, I was going to call the Busy Bee and place a dinner order. Might as well partake of Dorothy's offerings for a third time today. Do you want me to order you something?"

"Oh...uh. I actually need to leave. I...uh...I have plans tonight."

Walt swallowed, and pushed his questions about what those plans might be aside. "Ok." He looked over at her. "Since Haskill's arranged for us to talk to Nick at 8:00 tomorrow morning, we should probably aim to get to the station in Sheridan a little early. It will give us a chance to ask Haskill a few more questions. How about we leave around 6:45?"

Vic looked down at her boots. "I'll...I'll just meet you there. At the station in Sheridan. I'll be there by 7:30." She looked up, and held Walt's eyes.

Walt inwardly cringed, but tried his best to mask his disappointment. "Oh. Ok. I'll...I'll see you there."

Vic gave him one final look before heading for the door to the main office. Walt heard her collecting items at her desk, followed by her booted feet crossing the hardwood floor and then the door opening and closing.

He was surrounded by silence.

He felt surrounded by Vic's disappointment in him, that she'd left in her wake.

He sat down at his desk and held his head in his hands.

He knew he should go home, but he was tired, and the thought of lugging himself down to his truck seemed exhausting just thinking about it. Plus he had to wait for the Sheridan deputy to check in. He stood and looked down at his couch.

He heard someone call Vic's name, and stepped closer to the window. Looking down he saw Vic standing in the middle of the street. Cady appeared and he saw the two start talking, although he couldn't hear what they were saying. After Cady said something, Vic turned her head and looked up at his window.

Walt stepped back, hoping she hadn't seen him.

He gave it a minute and then stepped back up to the window, but the street was now empty and Vic's truck was gone.

_So if Cady asks for my number to give to her co-worker, Scott, I should give it to her?_

He looked back down at his couch. It was going to be another long night.

* * *

**I never expected this chapter would end up being so long! I thought about splitting it into two chapters, but there were certain scenes that I wanted to tell from Walt's perspective, and with the next chapter switching to Vic's perspective, I couldn't figure out a way to split it. MizReesa and Rebelwant2B, you've expressed how you like longer chapters, so this extra-long chapter is for you :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to those who reached out asking about the next chapter or looking forward to how the story will continue! I'm sorry there has been such a delay between this chapter and the previous one, but I've experienced some issues with the site this week and couldn't get this chapter uploaded until now. The good news is that I was able to start working on the next chapter (I already have three scenes written) so hopefully there won't be as much time between chapters. Thanks for reading! :)**

* * *

Vic looked up at the clock on the wall and watched the seconds hand click through its circular path. After it rounded past the twelve, she squeezed her eyes shut, her head rolling back until it collided with the wall behind her chair.

"Hey Moretti!"

Her eyes flew open and landed on the man coming through the front door.

"Hey Leo." She noticed the crispness of his uniform button-down. She hadn't bothered with ironing that morning. She hadn't felt like doing laundry lately either, so she was lucky to be wearing a clean shirt.

He tucked his cell phone into his pocket. "You here to talk to the kids from those stores that were robbed on Saturday?"

"Yep."

Placing his sunglasses on top of his head, he gave her a wide smile. All teeth and genuineness. "I'll take you back to Haskill's office."

Vic ran her hands along her thighs, and stood. Walt was already here. She had seen his truck parked outside as she came in. She could do this, right? She could see him, and work alongside him, and still keep breathing in those moments when he was close and all she wanted to do was reach out and touch him. She'd survived the first day back. She could get through today as well.

This would get easier. Eventually.

It had to.

She closed her eyes for a moment and then followed the deputy.

"Mornin' Linda." Leo gave a small wave to the receptionist before proceeding down the hallway.

He looked over his shoulder at Vic. "I'm surprised you didn't drive up with your boss like you normally do."

"Uh...no. It was just easier for us to come separately today."

The deputy came to a halt as Vic's eyes fell on Tom Haskill's nameplate next to the doorway. The sheriff's office was empty.

"Hmm." Leo stepped back and then walked over to the nearest desk. "Hey Hartley. You know where the boss is?"

"I think he stepped out to get some coffee."

"Longmire with him?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks." Leo turned back toward Vic and then nodded toward his desk as he started to walk in that direction. "Not surprising he took your boss to get some coffee. The stuff here tastes like crap. You'd think we'd do something about it, given how much we complain about it, but no one ever does."

He pulled a chair over so she could sit, and then lowered himself into his own. As she took a seat she looked over at the neighboring desk. The desktop had nothing on it other than a phone.

"Did Kurt leave?"

"Yeah, Thompson's wife got in to grad school. In California. She headed there in August. He stayed until they were able to sell their house. Left two weeks ago."

Vic's eyes lingered on the empty desk.

"You interested in the position?"

She swiveled to face him. "What? Oh...no."

"You sure? Other than the shitty coffee, it's a great place to work. Could be a good change of pace from Absaroka County."

"You think your cases are more interesting than ours?"

"We've got more people, which means more crime, and therefore more cases. So yeah...more interesting"

"I'm not sure that advertising you have more crime is a good selling point for Sheridan County." She knew what Walt would think about that. "And just because the quantity of the cases is higher doesn't mean the quality is better."

He ignored her comments as he counted off on his fingers. "Plus, our department is significantly larger, which means a bigger budget and greater resources, and our facility and technology are more advanced than what you have down in Durant."

"Probably. But we have more character."

"Yes, you do have some characters down there."

She smiled. "Hah. Very funny."

He grinned. "Well, at least think about it. Change can be good."

"Says the man who's worked here all his adult life, to the woman who moved cross country to start her life over."

He leaned forward in his seat, his forearms resting on his desk. His eyes were filled with eagerness. "Exactly! Coming from the Philly police department, Sheridan County could give you a little more of what you're used to than Absaroka County. Plus..." His eyes seemed to soften a bit. "I heard that your...situation...with your husband...has changed. Maybe the time is ripe for a fresh start."

As she was about to respond, she noticed Leo adjust his position in his seat as he looked past her shoulder.

"Mornin' Sheriff."

She froze, not turning around.

"You trying to poach my deputy?"

Her back to Walt, Vic briefly closed her eyes before turning them on Leo, who was smiling.

"Yes I am. We have a lot to offer Moretti here in Sheridan County." His eyes dropped to Vic. "But I know she likes working with you, for some reason, so you probably have nothing to worry about."

_Breathe_, she reminded herself. She took in a deep breath and then stood and turned around.

She brought her eyes up to Walt's, which were directed down at Kurt Thompson's empty desk. He then turned toward her, his gaze steady as he held up a coffee cup.

She reached out and took it from his hand. "Thanks."

"Tom had to make a call, but he said he could talk with us before we meet with Nick."

Vic nodded as she took a sip.

"See you around Moretti."

She turned toward Leo, taking one last look at his open face and trying to absorb some of his morning enthusiasm that she was sorely lacking. She lifted her cup to him, and then followed Walt to Tom's office.

XX

They could have used the interrogation room. The Sheridan County Sheriff's Office actually had one. Part of the 'greater resources and more advanced facility' that Leo had been referring to. But Vic and Walt had both agreed that their meeting wasn't an interrogation, and the less formal setting of Tom's office would likely put Nick more at ease.

Tom's office, much like the area outside with all the deputies' desks, was all beige walls and grey, metallic furniture. A sharp contrast to the hardwood floors and wooden furniture of the Absaroka Country library-turned-sheriff's department. In addition, the walls were lined with pictures and commendations highlighting the accomplishments of Tom and his men. Vic noted that Walt would never be at ease in an office like this.

Nick Waters was currently seated to Vic's left, in the other guest chair at the desk. He was playing with the zipper of his hooded sweatshirt, and his left leg was bouncing to the point that Vic had to stop herself from reaching her hand out and placing it on his thigh.

Tom folded his hands in front of him on the desk. "Hi Nick. Thanks for coming in. This is Deputy Moretti and Sheriff Longmire." He nodded over at Walt, who was leaning against a bookshelf as he stood, hat in hand, a few feet to Nick's left.

"Deputy Moretti and Sheriff Longmire are from Absaroka County, and wanted to talk to you about the robbery of your father's store Saturday morning, as well as some similar robberies that happened in Durant yesterday."

Nick looked back and forth between Walt and Vic, and then returned his gaze to Tom. "Ok."

Vic adjusted so that she was facing Nick a little more directly. They had agreed that she would lead the interview. "Sheriff Haskill informed us that the Food Depot was robbed shortly after it opened Saturday morning, and that you were the only one working at the time."

Nick's turned toward her. "Uh huh."

She tried to keep her eyes on Nick's instead of his bouncing leg. "Do you have any idea who could have robbed the store?"

"No."

"Anyone mad at you, or your dad, for any reason?"

He paused. "Not that I can think of."

"You reported that the person who robbed the store was dressed all in black and wore a mask. Do you remember anything else about him?"

Nick looked down at his hands. Vic saw him touch the splint on his left index finger. "Not really."

After a moment he looked up, and stared at the desk in front of him. Vic's eyes followed his and landed on a coffee mug near the corner. She read the words facing them. _Coffee is the lifeblood that fuels the dreams of champions_. She agreed with the 'lifeblood' part and reached out and picked up the coffee Walt had brought her earlier before turning her attention back to Nick.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"Not much. He pointed a gun, and yelled at me to open the cash register and then to get down on the ground."

"Nothing else?"

"He started wrapping tape around my wrists and ankles, and then my eyes. And then started kicking the shit..." His eyes flashed up at her. "Sorry. Started kicking the crap out of me. He didn't say a word during any of that."

Vic's eyes slid to the bruises on the side of his face.

Walt placed his hat on top of the bookshelf, straightened and crossed his arms. "Did you say or do anything that seemed to set him off?"

Nick turned toward him. "He seemed kind of angry from the start, so I didn't say much. I told him it was my dad's store, and asked him to take it easy. That's when he started kicking me."

"Two other stores in Sheridan were robbed that morning."

"Yeah, the sheriff told me."

Vic pulled two pictures out of the folder on her lap and placed them on the desk in front of Nick. "Do you know either of these individuals?"

Nick looked down at the photos and then pointed to the picture of Rich Sollinger. "I don't know that guy, but Evan and I are friends."

Vic met Walt's eyes and then looked back at Nick. "His name is Rich Sollinger. He owns Rich's Auto Repair shop on Main Street."

"I've never been there."

"How close of friends are you with Evan?"

"We're good friends. Since fifth grade."

"Are you still friends now that you're out of school?"

"Yeah. Even though we went to different colleges, we still hung out. Especially in the summers, and more now that Evan's graduated."

"What kind of things do you do when you hang out?"

"I don't know...mostly mountain biking I guess. Snowboarding in the winter."

Vic moved the photos of Rich and Evan to the side and spread out five more pictures before him. "As I mentioned, there have been some other robberies and we wanted to see if you know any of the folks involved."

Nick leaned over the pictures. When he arrived at the last photo he leaned in closer. "What's this guy's name?"

"Tyler Daniels. Know him?"

He stared at the picture of Tyler for a moment. "I don't recognize the name, but I feel like I've seen him before."

"At school? Work? Around town?"

Nick squinted at the picture. "Yeah, I'm not sure where."

"We understand that you went to Sheridan high school?"

Nick looked up. "Yeah. Did he go there?" He looked back at the picture. "If he did, he wasn't in the same grade as Evan and me. We knew everyone in our class."

Walt uncrossed his arms, resting his hands on his hips. "You and Evan were pretty popular?"

Nick sat back in his chair. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Vic leaned over, picked up Andy's picture and handed it to Nick. "How about these other four? Do you know Andy Bowman? He works at the Exxon gas station on 16 that was robbed yesterday." Nick looked down at the picture in his hand and shook his head.

"Dylan Matthews? He works at the Ace Hardware in Durant." Again Nick looked at the photo she placed in his hand and shook his head.

"What about Kyle Walton? He works at the Filling Station."

"Nope."

"Tuck Jensen?"

Nick seemed momentarily startled by the name.

Vic watched his face closely. "You know him?"

He stared a moment at the picture before placing it back on the desk. "No."

"You seemed to recognize Tuck's name when I mentioned it."

"Yeah, for a moment there I thought I might, but I don't."

Vic arched an eyebrow. "Confusing him with another Tuck you know?"

Nick's eyes slid back to the picture before looking away. "Yeah...maybe."

Vic glanced over at Walt with her 'what the hell' look and then looked back toward the desk and pointed at the pictures. "Have you seen any of these guys around the store? Or been to the stores they work at in Durant? Take another look."

Nick briefly re-looked at the pictures and then back up at her. "I don't think so."

Walt, still in his hands-on-hips pose, looked down at Nick. "How many hours do you work at the Food Depot?"

Nick turned his way. "Uh...just a few hours, one or two days a week, to help out my dad. I have a job."

"Doing what?"

"I do web design work."

"Where?"

"Uh...for a company called WSC. They do contract work with other companies."

"Contract work?"

"Yup. I get assigned to projects at companies that WSC contracts with, and do the work from home."

"Full time?"

"Uh...no. I do about twenty-fours of work a week."

Vic looked up from the pictures. "You didn't want a full-time job?"

"Why would I want that? I like the arrangement I have. It gives me a lot of flexibility."

"Gives you more time to go mountain biking and snowboarding?"

He grinned. "Exactly."

Vic turned toward Walt. "What's with kids these days...putting their extra-curricular activities before school and their careers?"

"Oh. I also do a little web design work...on the side. For local stores and restaurants."

Vic looked back at Nick. "Did you do the website for Evan's brother's bike shop?"

Nick's face lit up. "I did. Have you seen it?"

Vic smiled. "I have. The site looks great." She noticed his leg had stopped bouncing and he'd released his sweatshirt's zipper from his grasp.

"I created the website for my dad's store as well."

"I saw that one too, when I was looking up information on each of the stores that were robbed. You didn't happen to develop the websites for any of the other stores hit in Sheridan or Durant?"

Nick shook his head. "No. I haven't done any work for stores outside Sheridan." He paused. "Or for that auto place."

Walt took a couple steps toward them. "Are you a member of the Trailhead Outdoor Club?"

Nick lifted his hand to scratch the back of his neck, before running it over the top of his head. "No. But I've heard of the group. Evan and his brother James run bike clinics. I help out sometimes. They get various clubs and schools reaching out to them."

Walt stepped up to the desk and pointed to Tyler's picture. "Ever come across this kid at one of the clinics? Is that why he looks familiar?"

Again Nick looked at the picture. "I'm not sure. We come across a lot of people."

"Ever do a clinic down in Laramie? With the University of Wyoming or some club down there?"

Nick eyes briefly darted over to Tuck's picture before looking away. "No. Evan and his brother stick mostly to northern Wyoming and southern Montana."

Vic noticed that Nick had looked at Tuck's picture even though they hadn't mentioned that Tuck went to UW and looked up to see whether Walt had noticed as well. She arched an eyebrow and he nodded. She turned back to Nick and stood. "Thanks for coming in today, Nick. We appreciate it. If you think of anything else, please call Sheriff Haskill, who will pass on the information to us."

Nick nodded and then stood. Vic saw him wince a little and then bring his hand to his side. She remembered he also had a couple broken ribs.

Tom walked around his desk to Nick's side. "Thanks Nick. I'll walk you out."

With a final glance over at Walt and then Vic, Nick followed Tom out of the room.

When the door closed Vic looked over at Walt, who was back to leaning against the bookshelf, and then walked over to the window to the left of Tom's desk chair. "Nick knows Tuck."

"Yep."

Still turned away from him, her eyes on the street, Vic rested both hands on her hips. "Dammit. Why are these kids trying to hide the fact that they know some of the other victims?"

"Not sure."

She turned around, her eyes resting on the photos she'd spread out on Tom's desk. "Do you think Nick knows Tyler more than he says he does?"

Walt stepped up to the desk, also looking down at the pictures. "Possibly. But unlike with Tuck, he at least admitted he recognized Tyler, so he might be telling the truth."

Vic lifted her gaze, her eyes meeting his. "There a chance he's lying to us. Hell, maybe they're all lying to us."

His hands at his waist, Walt shifted his weight to his other foot. "Yep. And if that's the case we have to figure out why."

There was a light rap on the door, and then it opened. Leo popped his head in.

"Deputy. Sheriff. Boss man says to tell you that Evan Brandt called and is running a little late. He should be here in about ten minutes."

Vic leaned back against the window sill. "Ok."

Leo looked between the two of them. "Can I get either of you a refill?"

Vic arched an eyebrow. "A refill of the shitty coffee you spoke so glowingly about?"

Leo grinned. "I wouldn't offer you coffee from here. I'd never get you to consider applying for Thompson's position if I let you try it."

Walt stepped forward. "I'm good."

A little thrown by Walt's abruptness, Vic looked over at him before looking back at Leo. "I'm good too. Nothing more for me."

The deputy nodded. "Let me know if you change your mind."

When Leo shut the door, Walt remained in the position he was standing in, his hands on his hips, and his back to her. After a few moments he turned, but instead of looking her way he brought his attention to the contents of Tom's bookcase.

Crossing her arms, she watched him scan the titles. "What do they say about him?"

"What?" He didn't look at her, his focus still on the bookcase.

"You once said that you could tell a lot about someone by the books on his shelves. What do those books say about Tom?"

Still slightly bent over, Walt turned to look over at Vic. "He appears to be well-read."

"You two should start a book club."

She noticed a small smile on his lips as he turned back to the shelves. He gave another look at the books and then returned to his position against the wall next to the bookcase before looking over at her again. "Who else would we get to join?"

Vic grinned at the glint she could now see in his eyes. "Lucian seems like he might read. Poetry at least. Or does he just write it? I can't remember."

The corners of Walt's mouth continued their upward path, as his gaze shifted toward the middle of the room. "It would turn into a drinking club if we included Lucian."

"True." She gave a light laugh as she pushed herself up to a standing position. "You'll have to ask Tom if he has any closeted readers in this bunch here." She took a few steps forward, still standing on the opposite side of the bookcase. "Although, you might have lost your only potential member with Kurt Thompson moving to California. I hear he and his wife were big book lovers."

She noticed Walt go still. "Are you...are you thinking about..."

He didn't finish his question, his eyes dropping to some spot on the floor.

"Am I thinking about what?" Her hand rested on the corner of the bookcase.

He raised his gaze and held hers for a moment, his hand sliding across the hair at the back of his neck. "Oh...uh...I didn't know if you were thinking about joining the book club as well."

Vic's brows knotted as the door opened, Tom Haskill's tall lanky frame filling the doorway.

"So what are you two hypothesizing about in here? Did you solve our mystery while I stepped out?"

His back still to the door, Walt's eyes lingered on hers for a moment, and then he turned toward Tom. "We need to figure out why these boys are not telling us the complete truth regarding who they know. We'll have to see what we can get out of Evan."

Vic's eyes followed Walt as he leaned against the wall, on the other side of the bookcase. When he didn't look back in her direction, she made her way over to her chair on the other side of the desk.

If Tom sensed any tension between them, he didn't comment on it as he crossed the room.

XX

"Sorry. For being late." Evan Brandt stood inside the doorway, looking down at the cast on his left hand. "It's been taking longer to do things these last few days."

Evan was dressed similarly to Nick, as he stood before them in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

"That's ok, Evan." Tom closed the door behind him and then pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Evan, this is Deputy Moretti and Sheriff Longmire from the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department. They are working with me because they had some robberies yesterday in Durant that were very similar to the three robberies that occurred here Saturday morning. They wanted to ask you a few questions and show you some pictures."

Evan's eyes rotated to Vic, who had taken the chair next to his. "Sure."

She gave him a smile in greeting. "Having a broken wrist must be frustrating to an active person like you. We hear you're into mountain biking."

He held her eyes a moment. "Yup."

"How did you get here this morning? Were you able to drive a car with that cast, or did you need to get a ride?"

"Oh, I...I rode my bike over. It wasn't too bad. Biking with a cast. More annoying than anything."

"We're trying to see if we can uncover a few more details about the individual who robbed your store. We've heard he was dressed in black and wearing a ski mask, but we're wondering if you remember anything else about him."

He paused and then shook his head. "I don't."

"How tall would you say he was?"

"Around my height, I think, maybe a little shorter."

"What about his build?"

"Not scrawny. And not huge. Average I guess."

"How did he break your wrist?"

"He slammed it across the corner of the counter."

"Did he say anything to you during the robbery?'

"Just a few times. To order me to do things."

"Do you remember anything specific about his voice? How deep it was? Could you tell if he was older or younger?"

"He was yelling. That's all I remember."

Vic flipped through some of the pictures in her lap that Tom had given Walt and her that morning. There were shots taken both inside and outside the bike shop. "How was he not seen by anyone coming into the store? Your store is on one of the busier streets in Sheridan. You'd think he'd stand out being dressed in black and wearing a mask."

Evan reached over and pointed to one of the photos. "He left through the back."

"Is that how he came in as well?"

"I didn't see him come in, but I think so. The back door was unlocked that morning."

Vic reached into another folder, pulled out Nick's picture, and placed it in front of Evan on the desk. "We talked to Nick earlier today. He told us the two of you are friends."

Evan nodded as he looked down at the photo.

"Do you think it strange that the stores you each work at were both robbed on the same morning? Might suggest that the person who robbed your stores knew you both."

Evan looked up, but didn't say anything.

"Can you think of anyone who has it in for the two of you?"

Evan shook his head. "No."

"Anybody from high school?"

He shook his head again.

"Any unhappy customers at the store or from one of your clinics?"

Evan rubbed the back of his ear. "Not that I can think of."

Vic placed Rich Sollinger's picture on the desk. "This man's name is Rich Sollinger. Does he look familiar?" Evan leaned over the picture and then shook his head. "They showed me his picture on Saturday, but I didn't recognize him."

"He owns Rich's Auto Repair shop on Main Street."

One of Evan's eyebrows lifted. "I...I had my car fixed there." He looked at the picture again. "He might have been the guy at the counter."

"When did you have your car fixed?"

"At...at the beginning of the summer."

"Had you had your car fixed there before?"

His eyes back on Vic, he leaned back against the chair with the right side of his body. "No, that was the first time. And that was months ago. I haven't been there since."

"Do you remember your interaction with him when you brought your car in?"

Evan pursed his lips as he thought. "Not really."

"How about Andy Bowman? He's a senior at Durant High and works at a gas station that was robbed yesterday morning."

Evan looked at Andy's picture and then shook his head.

"Dylan Matthews also went to Durant high and is now a sophomore at MSU Billings. He works at an Ace Hardware that was broken into. Ever run in to him on campus last year?"

Again Evan shook his head.

"Kyle Walton is in his second year at Casper College. Works at another Durant gas station that was robbed called The Filling Station. Know him?"

"No." He looked down at his cast while Vic brought out the next picture.

"Tuck Jensen—"

Evan shot a look at Vic without glancing at the photo, and finished her sentence for her. "…is a junior at the University of Wyoming."

"You know him." She decided to state it as a fact instead of as a question to see if he would elaborate.

He looked from Vic, to Tom and then over to Walt. "I..." Evan looked down. "I don't know him."

"You recognize his name. You know where he goes to school, and what year he is."

"He...I..." He stopped again.

The three of them waited for Evan to continue.

"He plays for the Cowboys."

Vic's forehead creased as she raised both eyebrows. "You're a fan of the Cowboys even though you went to a different college?"

He leaned forward in his seat, placing his elbows on his thighs and staring at a stack of papers on the desk. "We were big Cowboys fans growing up. Both my father and my brother James went to UW for undergrad. My school didn't have a football team, so I've stayed a UW fan. James has taken me to a game every year since he went there. I've seen Tuck play."

"Have you met Tuck?"

He looked back at Vic. "No."

Walt rested his left arm on the front corner of the bookshelf. "So how does Tuck know who you are?"

Evan straightened, his eyes flashing toward Walt. "What?"

"He recognized your picture when we showed it to him."

"He did?"

"So how do you know him? You must have met before."

"I don't. We haven't."

Vic stood up, turned around and leaned against the edge of the desk, looking down at Evan. "Did you play football in high school? Maybe your teams played each other."

He looked up at her. "No. I'm not really a team sport player. I like watching them, but I stick to the individual ones."

"Like mountain biking and snowboarding."

"Yeah."

"So where else might you two have met?"

"I...I..." He paused, his gaze dropping to his lap. "I can't remember meeting him."

"Has he been to your store or one of your clinics?"

"I don't think so."

Crossing her arms, she looked down at Evan's bent head. "Are you lying to us, Evan? We're starting to get a feeling that you boys are hiding things from us."

Evan's head snapped up. "I have never met him, I swear. I'd remember if he'd been in one of our clinics." He shifted to look over at Walt. "Wait. You said he recognized me. How did he say he knew me?"

Walt scanned Evan's face. "He also insisted he has never met you."

"Then how do you know that he recognized me?"

Vic picked up the pictures of Tuck and Nick. "It was clear in your body language that you recognized Tuck even if you hadn't said anything. Tuck had the same reaction you just had, as well as your friend Nick. When we asked Tuck how he knew you he denied it. Nick denied that he knew Tuck even though he clearly reacted when we brought up Tuck's name. Why do you think those two aren't telling us the truth?"

Evan looked down as he dug a finger into the opening of his cast to scratch some out of reach spot. "I don't know Tuck. That's the truth. I've seen him play, but have never met him in-person. And Nick's never said anything about knowing Tuck." He looked up. "Maybe...maybe I mentioned Tuck to Nick after coming back from a UW game. Maybe that's why he recognized Tuck's name."

Walt sucked in his lower lip as he continued to watch Evan closely.

Vic picked up Tyler's picture. "Do you recognize Tyler Daniels? He was a freshman when you were a senior at Sheridan."

Evan looked at the picture, his brow furrowing. "We went to high school together?"

"You don't recognize him?"

"Actually I do, but not from high school. He came to one of our clinics earlier this year."

Walt stepped closer to the desk, causing Evan to look his way. "Tyler is a member of the Trailhead Outdoor Group. Are you familiar with it?"

"Yeah. I never joined, but did some of their mountain bike trips during my first couple years of college. The group was started by a few guys up at MSUB. My brother and I did a bike clinic for their group this year." He paused. "Yeah, I think that's where I came across this Tyler kid."

"When was the clinic?"

Evan leaned back as he thought. "I think it was a Saturday in early May. I can't remember the date."

"Where did you hold the clinic?"

"Zimmerman Trail, in Billings, not too far from campus."

Walt's brought his hands to his hips as he looked down at Evan from where he stood near the corner of the desk. "Do you remember any of your interactions with Tyler that day?"

Evan rubbed his hand through his hair. "Not really. I don't remember him saying much. But I remember him volunteering to be the first to do some of the drills."

"What kind of drills?"

"Cornering. Uphill and downhill switchbacks. Learning how to fall off your bike. Stuff like that."

"Was he any good?"

"Yeah. That kid seemed to have no fear. Just launched himself into all of it."

Walt briefly looked up and off to the side before returning his attention to Evan. "Did your brother James interact with him?"

"I'm not sure. He never mentioned it if he did."

"Was Nick helping you out that day? Did he talk to Tyler?"

"Nick was there, but I don't know whether he talked to Tyler."

Evan's eyes drifted back to the pictures in Vic's hand.

"How...how badly was Tuck hurt yesterday?"

She stayed on his face. "The guy broke Tuck's nose and smashed his hand."

Evan dropped his chin towards his chest, his eyes briefly closing before looking up and out the window behind Tom.

"Do you have any idea who's doing this? Why they're doing this?"

Vic returned to her chair. "That's what we're trying to figure out. Which is why we need all of you to be honest about who you know and how you know them. It can help us find connections that could lead us to the person responsible for all this."

Evan leaned back in his seat.

Vic placed the photos back on the desk. "Is there anything else you'd like to add, Nick?"

"I...uh..." He looked between the three of them. "No."

"Ok." She held his gaze for a moment. "If anything does come to you, please reach out to Sheriff Haskill. We're working this case together, so he'll keep us updated."

She stood and waited for Evan to do the same.

Tom came around his desk, placing a hand on Evan's shoulder as he guided him to the door. "Thanks for coming in Evan."

When the two had left, Vic walked over to the window, placed both hands on the sill and looked out. A moment later she heard the door open behind her, and turned around to find the office empty.

Confused by Walt's sudden, unannounced departure, Vic made her way across the room. Just as she reached the doorway, Walt walked back in, almost colliding with her.

"Sorry." He paused a moment before walking over to the table in the corner. Vic followed, coming up to his side as he revealed a stack of post-it notes and a couple pens in his hands. He placed the post-its down and pulled the top one off the pile.

Vic leaned over the table. "What are you doing?"

He removed the cap from one of the pens and began writing. "I'm trying to keep all the connections between these eight straight. Thought it might help to write them out."

Walt placed a post-it note with Nick's name on it on the table and pulled another sheet from the stack. Once all eight names were written down, he stepped back.

He pointed to the post-it with Nick's name. "Evan knows Nick, but none of the others claimed to."

"Well we haven't talked to Rich Sollinger yet. And I still need to show Andy the pictures of the Sheridan folks to see if he recognizes anyone, but I'm guessing neither of them know him. Or at least I'm anticipating they will claim they don't know him."

"What about Dylan?"

"Since he's back at school in Billings, I emailed him the pictures. He said he didn't know any of them, including Tyler."

"Ok, we'll confirm with Rich and Andy, but for now let's assume that the only one admitting to knowing Nick is Evan."

He looked at the other post-its. "We do, however, know that Tyler was at the bike clinic back in May, and that Nick helped out at the clinic, and somewhat recognized Tyler's picture when we showed it to him. So Nick has a connection to both Evan and Tyler."

Vic picked up the other pen, leaned forward and wrote the two names on Nick's post-it. "And Nick reacted when we mentioned Tuck's name, even though Tuck claimed not to know him." She added Tuck's name to the list.

She straightened and turned her attention to the post-it with Evan's name. "The Sheridan individuals all have a connection with Evan. Nick is his friend, Tyler participated in his bike clinic, and Rich's auto shop fixed his car." She wrote the three names below Evan's name.

Walt pointed to Tuck's post-it. "And there is a connection between Evan and Tuck. Something more than just Evan admitting he's a fan of the Cowboys."

Vic added Tuck's name to the list. "I'll check with Andy, but I'm guessing, similar to Kyle and Dylan, he won't recognize Evan."

With his hands on his hips, Walt looked down at the table. "Rich is connected to Evan through the work his shop did on Evan's car, and to Tyler, as Tyler's mom's boyfriend. But no one else has recognized him." Vic wrote the two names down on Rich's post-it.

He tapped Tyler's post-it. "Tyler has a connection to the other three Sheridan individuals, even though he admits to only knowing Rich, but so far we have nothing confirmed regarding how he might know the kids in Durant." Vic added the three names to Tyler's post-it.

Vic pulled out her notebook. "Andy didn't recognize Kyle or Dylan, but knew who Tuck was, since he was a popular football player."

Walt looked over at her. "Kyle recognized Andy enough to call him a loser."

Vic wrote Tuck's and Kyle's names on Andy's sheet. "I'll check with Andy to see if he knows any of the four from Sheridan."

She looked back at her book. "Dylan recognized Kyle, since they were in the same grade, but said they weren't friends. And he recognized Tuck, again because of his popularity as a football player. Other than those two, he didn't know the others." Vic placed Tuck and Kyle on Dylan's list.

She flipped a page and then leaned over and started writing names on Kyle's post-it. "Kyle recognized Andy. He knew who Dylan was, although, like Dylan, said the two weren't friends. And he was on the football team with Tuck, although a year behind him. He didn't recognize any of the four from Sheridan."

Walt placed both hands on the table. "Tuck knows Kyle, recognized Dylan's name, and didn't remember Andy, who would have been a freshman at Durant his senior year. And then of course, Tuck recognized Evan, although he denied knowing him. He said that he didn't know Nick or Rich." Vic wrote the information down beneath Tuck's name.

Vic ran her fingers across the post-its for the four from Sheridan. "So, Evan and Tyler are connected to everyone in Sheridan." She then brought her focus to the other four post-its. "And Kyle, and to some degree Tuck, are connected to everyone in Durant, if you count Andy recognizing Tuck as a football player despite Tuck not remembering Andy."

Walt lifted Evan's and Tuck's post-its from the table. "And the only connection between those in Sheridan and those in Durant, right now, is through Evan and Tuck, who recognized each other. And possibly through Nick and Tuck, although Tuck claimed not to know Nick."

Turning her head, Vic looked up at Walt as he returned the two post-its he was holding. "We don't have any insight into how Tyler is connected to anyone in Durant, which doesn't help support our suspicion that he is involved with all the robberies."

She looked back at their notes on the post-its. "Is Tyler tied to the Durant kids through the Evan and Tuck connection, and we just have to figure out how he fits in and why the hell these kids are lying about it?"

She cupped the side of her neck with her hand as she continued to survey their notes. "Or is the person that Tyler is working with to pull off these robberies the connection to Durant?

She looked up. "Or is it something else altogether?"

Walt rubbed his hand across his jaw. "We don't have the connection yet, and we don't have motive for any of it. Tyler briefly crossing paths with Evan and Nick at the mountain bike clinic in Billings doesn't give us any insight into why he would do this."

Vic ran her hand along her ponytail as the two stared at the eight post-its in silence. With her focus still on the table she blew at a few strands of hair that had fallen in front of her view. "This reminds me of those logic problems we did as kids where you filled out the grid based on the clues that were given, and then attempted to deduce who was connected to each other."

He half-turned. "I was always good at those."

A pause and then she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Me too."

He smiled a small smile at her, and she couldn't help herself from wanting more. She took a step closer as she fingered the stack of small yellow sheets sitting near the edge of the table. "Where did you get the post-its?"

He turned fully toward her, his eyes on her face. "I have my source."

"Does Ruby know that you have relationships with other receptionists on the side?"

"As long as I am loyal to her, Ruby does not care what I have to do to get the job done."

"But does she know these other receptionists offer you post-its? I thought that was Ruby's sacred territory with you."

Walt's grin grew. "As you can see the post-its Linda gave me were blank. Ruby has nothing to worry about. No note-passing is going on behind her back."

There it was again. That warm smile of his that pulled her in and made it so easy and so damn hard to be around him right now. It was like a magnetic pulling her in, and she took another step closer. "Ah, so I got you to admit your source was Linda."

"Sorry it took me so long. I needed to talk to one of my deputies about another case." Sheriff Haskill strode into the room and up to the table.

Vic watched Walt's smile fade as he turned away from her, slipping back into sheriff mode.

Tom looked down at the post-its. "What have you two been working on?"

XX

Sheriff Haskill stood with his back to the window. "Rich. Thanks for agreeing to talk to us. This is Deputy Moretti and Sheriff Longmire from Absaroka County. They're in Sheridan today to talk with you and the two other victims from Saturday's robberies. They had some similar robberies in Durant yesterday, and we want to see if we can find a connection so we can figure out who did this."

Rich Sollinger glanced between the two of them. "Is Tyler behind the Durant robberies as well? The bastard."

Standing on the opposite side of the hospital bed from Tom, Vic took a step closer. "We don't know who is responsible yet." She watched Rich closely. "Tyler has alibis for that morning."

"So you've seen the lardass? He hasn't even had the decency to call his mother throughout all this. And of course he hasn't shown any concern for how I'm doing. The only reason we know Tyler came back from his hiking trip on Saturday is because they told us he came into the Sheriff's Office to answer questions. Who am I kidding? That little shit never calls his mother when he's out on those damn treks of his."

Vic was concerned that they were getting the man riled up in his current condition. He had casts on both his left leg and hand. Bruising was visible across the part of his chest that was exposed, and he had a black eye. She recalled from the case file that he had cracked some ribs as well. She briefly looked at Walt, who stood near the foot of the bed, before looking back at the patient.

"Mr. Sollinger."

"Call me Rich, sweetheart."

She ignored the 'sweetheart' comment as well as Walt's clenched jaw. "Why are you so adamant that your son is involved?"

"He's not my son."

"Sorry, your girlfriend's son."

"The kid hates me."

"Well, even if that's true, it doesn't mean that he did this. And hating you wouldn't be motive for the other six robberies."

"And he's goddamn obsessive."

"Obsessive?"

"The asshole obsesses about everything. Joanne is at work today, but if she was here she'd back me up. Before I was in the picture he obsessed about his fathering leaving the two of them. When his dog died, he got obsessed with death. When he decided to finally lose weight, he obsessed with his diet and working out. When he got into all that outdoor stuff he does, he was obsessed with it. Saving money to get all the gear. Redecorating his room with his new heroes and activities. Spending all his free time doing hikes, and climbs and bike rides. And now he's decided to drop out of school because the goddamn obsession continues."

"What does that have to do with the robberies?"

"Tyler becomes absolutely fixated on things. Like his hatred for me. Like losing weight. Like taking on any challenge presented to him. So if he made up his mind to do this, to rob my store, the little shit would do everything in his power to see it through. If there were others he was angry with, he'd obsess about it and very likely come up with a way to get revenge for however they wronged him. So maybe the son of a bitch got it into his head to not just rob my store, but to try to get away with robbing several. In retaliation. Or for the challenge. To prove he could do it."

"As I mentioned, there's proof that Tyler was hiking during the robberies on Saturday. How do you explain that?"

"I'm sure Tyler found a way to make people believe he was hiking. Did I tell you how smart that pisser is? Back when he cared about school, he got straight A's."

"He has witnesses that say he was hiking with them. And Instagram uploads. Is there anyone you can think of who Tyler might have worked with to pull this off? Any of his friends?"

"You'll need to talk to Joanne about his friends. The loser never brought any of them around to the house, so I'm not sure if he actually has any."

Walt rested his hands on the end of the bed. "What about his girlfriend? Do you know her?"

Rich looked to the foot of the bed where Walt stood. "What girlfriend?"

"The one with the dog."

"If Tyler actually has a girlfriend, it's news to me."

Walt paused as he looked down the bed at Rich. "If Tyler is involved, did anything happen recently? Did you say anything to him or do anything that might have triggered...this?"

Rich sat up in the bed, cringing slightly at the movement. "Why is this my fault? I'm not responsible for what that freak's done."

She gritted her teeth as she watched Walt's grip on the bed tighten. She took a deep breath. "Does Tyler's mom believe he's involved in these robberies?"

Rich snorted as he pushed back into his pillow. "Of course she'll never admit it."

Vic took out pictures of Nick and Evan. "Sheriff Haskill probably already showed you these pictures, but we want to see if you remember anything. These are the boys that were working in the two other stores that were robbed on Saturday morning. Nick Waters and Evan Brandt. Have you seen them before? Maybe in the shop? Or hanging out with Tyler?"

Rich barely glanced at the pictures. "Like I told Sheriff Haskill, I don't know them."

Walt stepped closer. "Evan told us that he got his car fixed at your shop at the beginning of the summer."

Rich's eyes darted from Vic to Walt. "He did?"

"Yep."

Vic held up Evan's picture and Rick snatched it from her hands.

"Ok. Yeah. I remember him. His car needed some bodywork done."

Walt's hands went to his hips. "How long did you have his car?"

"A couple days, I think."

"Was there someone with him to give him a ride home?"

"No, he came by himself. The reason I didn't recognize this kid the first time I saw this picture is because when I met him he had all these cuts and scrapes all over his face and arms. They looked damn painful, and yet he got up on his car, took his bike down from his bike rack and rode it home. He must be an adventure nut, like Tyler. Takes these crazy falls, and gets right back in the saddle."

"Do you remember anything from your conversation with Evan?"

"We didn't talk much. He walked us through the damage when he dropped it off. I called him to talk through the repair work that was needed and how much it would cost. And then he picked it up."

"Have you seen him since then?"

"No."

"And this other kid? Nick? Are you sure you haven't seen him before."

Rick looked more closely at the picture. "No. He doesn't look familiar."

Vic pulled out the pictures of the four Durant kids and placed them on the tray in front of him. "These are the individuals that were working in the four stores that were robbed in Durant yesterday. Andy Bowman. Dylan Matthews. Kyle Walton. Tuck Jensen. Do you recognize any of them?"

Rich looked at each picture. "No." He looked across the bed at Walt. "Did any of these kids bring in their car to be fixed at my shop?"

"None of them mentioned it, but we'd like you to check your records. We'll write down the names for you."

Gathering the pictures and returning them to the folder, Vic looked up at Rich. "Is there anything else you've remembered about the robbery since talking to Sheriff Haskill?"

He let a breathy laugh. "Shit. I've been thinking of little else since. I'm not sure how I'll ever get those images out of my head. The son of a bitch yelling. The bat." He looked to the side. "But I haven't been able to remember any new details."

Vic dropped her gaze. She felt Walt's eyes on her, and looked up to find he had taken a step around the corner of the bed toward her. She pulled her shoulders back as she looked over at Rich. "Thanks. Please let Sheriff Haskill know if you remember anything you think might be helpful."

"Believe me, if I remember anything that would prove the shithead was involved, I'll let you know."

XX

Vic pulled into a spot to the left of Walt's Bronco in the Sheridan County Sheriff's Office parking lot. Putting her truck in park, she leaned forward and lay her forehead against the steering wheel.

"Do I sound like him, Walt?"

"Sound like who?"

She closed her eyes. "That asshole, Sollinger."

"What do you mean?"

"I curse. A lot. Hearing those words come out of his mouth...Am I an asshole like him?"

"Of course not."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not."

She slowly opened her eyelids and turned her head toward the passenger seat where he sat. He was looking at her intently.

"You're nothing like him. You don't say things to be derogatory or malicious."

She sat up, looking out the windshield. "My attitude can be rather...negative...sometimes."

"Your view on things is nothing like his. And you would never use some of the words he used, or say them about those close to you."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "You didn't hear what I was calling you this weekend."

The sides of his mouth lifted. "I can imagine. And I probably deserved it."

She breathed out a small laugh. "I can't believe Tyler is our main suspect and he's potentially done, or at least been involved in, these terrible things, but I was in there feeling sorry for him."

Walt paused in thought. "Sometimes the perpetrators are also victims. Sometimes they become perpetrators because there are victims."

Vic sat back, her head coming into contact with the headrest.

"What if Tyler's not guilty?"

"If that's where the evidence leads us, then that's where it leads us. It's like the logic problems you mentioned. We'll piece all the evidence together until we get to the truth. It may implicate Tyler, or it may exonerate him."

Her head still against the headrest, Vic looked out her driver-side window. "This week has really sucked so far."

A pause. "Yep."

"And I'm not just talking about the case."

He paused again. "I know."

She rolled her head to look at him. "And it's only Tuesday."

He held her eyes.

After a moment he shifted in his seat. "Rich Sollinger mentioning the bat, and not being able to get the image out of his head...did that...did that bring back memories of Chance Gilbert and that day at his compound?"

She closed her eyes as her answer.

The two sat in silence.

After a minute or so had passed, she felt his fingers on her elbow. When their gazes met, she saw a look in his eyes that she couldn't read, but that sucked her in. Made her stomach flip. He suddenly broke eye contact, looked down at his hand on her arm and then quickly pulled it back. He turned away from her and stared at the dashboard. She started to lean in toward him, but stopped herself from placing her hand on his arm, reminding herself that the ball was in his court. That the next move was his. She dropped her eyes and leaned back into her seat.

She'd really been struggling the last couple days back at work.

Part of her wanted there to be as much distance as possible between them. So she could get through this without getting more hurt. Without the constant reminder of what she couldn't have. Of what they'd never be. This part wanted him to get out of her truck so she could be on her way. So she could push him out of her mind. Or at least try...without him present. So that she wouldn't have to experience these looks that falsely gave her hope, and tore her up on the inside.

Yesterday she'd done a good job of putting up a wall. Of keeping space between them. But today...

Part of her clung to the hope that if she stayed in his presence, and gave him enough time, that he'd come around to seeing what they could have...what they could be...together. This part wanted to be near him. To reach out and touch him. To have him reach out and touch her. And not remove his hand. To smile that smile that softened his eyes. Today, this side of her was pulled in every time there seemed to be a moment...of connection...of possibility...between them.

Walt straightened, and without looking at her, reached for the door handle.

"Uh...I should head out." He opened the door and then paused. "See you back at the office?"

Maybe the first part was right. Maybe distance was the key. If she let herself hope and get close again, she was bound to get hurt...further. And maybe the next time she wouldn't survive. She was barely holding it together now. She needed to protect her heart. Things were painful enough already. She didn't think she could take another dose of rejection.

She turned toward him. "Actually, when I get back to Durant I'm going to track down Andy Bowman. Show him the pictures of the Sheridan folks and see what he says."

He held her gaze. "Ok."

Was the look that flashed across his eyes disappointment? _Shit_. There she was hoping again.

His gaze drifted to her windshield, and she looked in the same direction.

"You going back into the office?"

"Yep. I'll see if Branch or Ferg have learned anything new, and check in with the deputy Tom has watching Tyler."

There was a rap on the window beside her. Walt looked over, as she turned her head. Leo stood on the other side of the glass.

As she lowered the window she heard the passenger door open further. She looked to her right and saw Walt getting out of her truck.

"You two taking off?"

"Hmm?" She distractedly turned back toward Leo, finding his forearms crossed as he leaned against the opening of the window. "Oh...yes. We're heading back to Durant."

"Haskill didn't come back with you?"

"He stayed back at the hospital to check in on another patient."

Leo nodded. "Well, good luck with the case on your end."

"Thanks."

With a smile he pushed off the door and straightened. "Give me a call or stop by the office when you want to talk more about Thompson's position."

She laughed. "_When_? Not _if_? You sure are confident."

His smile broadened as he shrugged his shoulders. He turned and headed toward the stairs to the building, calling over his shoulder. "I say it like I see it."

Vic watched Leo enter the front door and then turned toward the Bronco. Walt sat gripping the wheel, his gaze directed toward the entrance.

He stared out his windshield a little longer, and then, without glancing her way, looked over his right shoulder and reversed the truck out of the parking spot. As she watched his vehicle disappear from her rearview mirror, she ran both hands over her face.

_Shit_. Regardless of whether she was pushing him away or getting pulled in, she wouldn't be able to keep him out of her mind. It was going to be a long drive back.


	8. Chapter 8

Exhaustion seeped through his bones, and he collapsed into his couch, his head falling back and his eyes closing of their own accord. The last three nights of little sleep had caught up with him, and he didn't know if he could muster the energy to drive himself home. It would mean another night staying at the office.

Walt felt his body sinking further into the cushions, and knew if he didn't head back to the cabin now, he was done for.

He heard a knock on his door, but couldn't lift his head. He wasn't on duty. He shouldn't still be here.

"Yep?"

He heard his office door open to his left and the shuffle of feet along the floorboards, but still couldn't convince his eyelids to work.

A moment passed, and he wondered if the person who had entered had changed their mind after seeing his lack of responsiveness. And then he felt the cushion dip to his left, and then pressure across one thigh and then the other.

His eyelids finally fluttered open and he tried to focus on the face before his. A face in shadows, backlit by the only source of light in the room. The lamp on his desk.

"Vic?"

Without responding she slid forward in his lap, her face hovering before his.

He was awake. Fully awake.

He could feel the quickening thud of his heartbeat.

He could feel her hand resting on his chest.

He could feel the warmth of her breath against his face.

"You can touch me Walt."

But he couldn't move. Not even to shake his head in response.

He felt her remove her palm from his chest and then lift both of his hands and place them on her hips. His gaze dropped, but she brought her left hand to his face to lift his chin and return his focus to her. She ran her fingers along his jawline.

"Vic."

"Why are you scared Walt?"

He heard the low ring of a telephone from the other room as Vic threaded her fingers in his hair.

"We should...we should probably answer that." He was having a hard time putting cohesive thoughts together.

She leaned her forehead against his.

His hands tightened at her waist.

"Vic."

She pulled back, but only slightly.

"Why are you scared to be with me?"

He heard the phone ring again, but Vic still made no move to get up so one of them could answer it.

She leaned in and brought her lips to his temple, her voice a whisper in his ear.

"Why are you so concerned about what others might think?"

He stared back at her.

"Or do you just not want to be with me?"

She shifted again and he let his head roll back until it made contact with the cushion. His eyes closed as her lips crushed down on his. Hungry. Searching. Completely in control. When she pulled back, he leaned toward her, as if she had a gravitational pull on him, his lips already missing the contact.

And then suddenly, the weight across his thighs lifted, and when he opened his eyes, she was no longer there.

After a moment he realized it was the phone on his desk that was ringing. Still somewhat dazed, he pushed himself off the couch to pick up the handset.

"Uh...Sheriff's Department."

"We have a situation at the Pony, and I need you to come over."

He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "I'm not on duty, Henry. Why didn't you ask Ferg to come out?"

"He told me your truck was still parked out front, so I had him patch me through. This situation has your name written all over it."

Before he could ask Henry to elaborate, the line went dead.

Walt stared at the phone in his hand before hanging up. He stepped up to his coat rack and paused. Closing his eyes, he remembered the feel of her mouth crashing down on his. After a moment he shook his head and reached out for his hat. He placed it on his head, grabbed his jacket, and walked across the room. With a glance back at the couch, he opened his door and stepped out in to the main office. Ferg looked up at the sound.

Walt slid his right arm into the sleeve of his jacket. "Ferg, I'm going over to the Pony to help Henry out with a situation, and then heading home."

"Ok. Need any help?"

"I don't think so, but I'll call if that changes."

Walt paused as he looked down at Vic's desk. "Did...did Vic stop by a little while ago?"

"Vic? No. No one has stopped in since you got back from Sheridan. It's been a slow night."

"That's...uh...that's what I thought, but just wanted to check." And with that, Walt headed for the door. "See you tomorrow Ferg."

XX

With his hands coming to rest on his hips, Walt paused just inside the entrance and scanned the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary for the Pony on a Tuesday night. He looked for Henry, finally locating him at the far end of the bar talking to a customer. As he neared, Henry looked up and nodded toward his office.

Henry said a few final words to the man he was talking to and then joined Walt just outside the door.

"You should talk to her."

Walt stared straight ahead, his hand resting on the doorknob, but his shoulders slumped in acknowledgement. "What did she say to you?"

Walt knew, before Henry even spoke, that he would not reveal what had been said between the two of them.

"I am bound by bartender confidentiality."

Walt turned to look at his friend.

"How long has she been here?" He wanted to ask if she'd come with anyone, but he didn't know if he wanted to hear the answer.

"She has been here a couple of hours."

Walt's eyes dropped to his boots.

"Talk to her." And then Henry turned his back on him and walked to a table across the room.

Walt stepped into the office, his eyes immediately falling on Vic's blond head as he closed the door shut behind him. He stepped in front of the couch and looked down, finding her sitting with her eyes closed.

"Vic?"

Her eyes remained shut, and after a moment he looked around the room, pausing on the closed door before returning his attention to where she was seated. He ran his hand along the left side of his jaw and then turned around and sat down a couple feet to her left. The couch sagged a little under his weight. Running both hands along his thighs, he brought his palms to rest on his knees and then looked up at the antlers mounted on the wall near the desk.

"I take it that Henry called you?"

Walt turned, surprised by her voice. Her eyes were still closed.

He slid his right hand along his thigh again. "Yep."

Slowly she opened her eyes. Although a bit bleary, she managed to hold his gaze. Her head was turned his way, and a few strands of hair that had fallen across her brow were distracting him. He longed to reach out and brush them aside.

"Why don't you like me Walt?"

He held her eyes for a moment before answering.

"I...I do like you, Vic."

"No you don't. Not really. If you did, you would have made the next move." She waved her arm in his general direction. "You've been pretty moveless." She closed her eyes. "And I'm pretty sure that's a word. Moveless." She breathed in deeply. "Moveless Walt."

He waited for her next accusation as he fingered the outer seem of his jeans near his knee, but she stayed silent. After a few moments he saw her breathing start to even out. He tentatively reached out, his fingers brushing her elbow.

"Vic?"

She didn't stir, and he gave in to temptation and lifted his hand to brush aside the hair that had fallen in front of her face.

"Vic, I should drive you home."

No response.

Still turned toward her, he leaned his head back against the couch, his eyes on her face.

His thoughts drifted to Friday night. Vic had fallen asleep first and he'd had a few moments to watch her in the near darkness of his bedroom before he'd drifted to sleep.

He felt the weariness of the last three sleepless nights take over once again, and decided it would be ok to close his eyes.

He would rest, just for a moment, before taking her home.

XX

Walt blinked, as his eyes tried to focus. He recognized Henry's desk, and he sat up and turned toward where Vic sat to his right, but found her side of the couch empty. He leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling, before lifting his left hand to look at his watch.

He had slept through the night.

He wondered what time she had left and hoped she had been sober enough to drive.

He closed his eyes again. He remembered her shadowed face, haloed by the light from his desk lamp.

_Why are you scared to be with me? _

He remembered the feel of her hand on his jaw, and her lips as they brushed near his ear.

_Why are you so concerned about what others might think?_

He remembered her eyes on his as she rested her head against the back of the couch.

_Why don't you like me Walt?_

As his brain tried to sort through which events had actually happened, and which had been a figment of his imagination, he knew one thing for sure.

Not liking her was definitely not the problem.

XX

When he entered the office, he found Ruby on the phone. She looked up, smiling at him in greeting before returning her attention to her call. He closed the door and headed for the coat rack, scanning the rest of the room as he walked. He saw Ferg on his computer, but Branch and Vic's chairs were both empty. He wasn't surprised as he hadn't seen either of their vehicles parked outside.

"Morning Ferg."

Ferg looked up, startled, as if he hadn't heard Walt enter. "Morning."

"Have either Branch or Vic been in yet."

"Not yet."

He hung up his hat, and was in the process of shrugging out of his coat when he heard the door behind him start to open. His breath catching, he paused, his arm still in one sleeve, and then turned.

"Hey, Walt."

Branch. Walt released the breath he'd been holding, and turned back toward the rack to finish taking off his coat. "Morning."

"How was Sheridan? Find out anything new?" Branch hadn't been in the office yesterday afternoon, so he'd missed the update he'd given Ferg.

"Follow me."

Branch followed him into his office, joining his side in front of the wall. Walt pointed to the post-its he'd added when he'd returned from Sheridan.

"We found out more about how some of them are connected. But some of these kids are keeping things from us. We haven't figured out why Nick Waters and Evan Brandt aren't telling us the truth about knowing Tuck Jensen."

He tapped a couple times on the post-it with Tuck's name. "Or how they know him." He paused, placing his hand near Tyler's name. "And we have no idea how Tyler ties in with the four kids here in Durant."

"Oh...that reminds me." Branch darted out of the room, returning a moment later. He handed over a small plastic bag. "Evidence. From the scene of the crime."

Walt looked down at the bag. "Really?" So far they'd found no evidence at any of the stores other than the empty registers, the duct-taped cashiers, and the video recording at the hardware store.

"When I went back to Ace Hardware, I found this stuck to the shelf that contained the duct-tape. It looks like the individual put this there when he took the three rolls of tape."

Through the clear plastic of the bag, Walt could see a post-it note. He read the message scrawled in black ink on the small yellow square of paper. "I owe u $12."

"Twelve dollars?"

"The cost of the three rolls of tape." Branch crossed his arms. "I'm not sure why he would rob six other stores for over five thousand dollars, and leave an 'I owe you' for twelve dollars' worth of duct tape he stole."

"Hmm."

"I'm assuming he didn't leave a note at any of the stores in Sheridan."

"Nope."

Branch gestured toward the bag. "I confirmed. There aren't any fingerprints on the post-it."

Walt stared at the note for another moment before handing it back to Branch. "Can you make a copy of it for the wall?"

"Sure."

As Branch left the room, Walt headed over to his desk. He sat down in his seat and closed his eyes. At a light rap on his door, he looked up.

Branch stepped up to the desk and handed him the copy he'd just made.

"Thanks."

Branch nodded and then headed for the door.

"Do you know what Ferg is working on?"

Branch looked back at him from the doorway. "Ferg probably told you yesterday, but we've been looking into everyone who used their credit cards at the pumps and in the store at both gas stations Monday morning before the robberies, to see if there is anyone who might have seen someone hanging out or casing the place. He's following up with the individuals we weren't able to reach yesterday."

Walt nodded. "I'm guessing he hasn't learned anything new?"

"Nope."

Branch suddenly turned to look over his left shoulder, at some sound Walt hadn't heard. "Hey, Vic."

Walt couldn't see her from his seated position, but heard her respond. "Hey."

From the direction Branch was facing, Walt guessed she was pouring herself a cup of coffee. A moment later she appeared in the doorway next to him, mug in hand.

Walt noted that she looked exhausted.

Branch looked down at her. "Rough night?"

Her eyes quickly flashed over to Walt, and then dropped to the ground. "Yep. Stayed up too late."

"Marathon binge? What show?"

Walt remembered that Vic had said she had watched a lot of television when Sean had first left. Now he was wondering if that's just what she'd told him when she'd come in looking tired and worn-out.

"Uh..._Justified_." She looked up at Branch, her finger raised. "And no spoilers if you've seen the whole series. I'm only on the fifth season."

"Hmm. I didn't figure you for a _Justified_ fan. Can't resist a man in a cowboy hat?"

She shrugged.

Branch grinned. "Looks like Wyoming's been rubbing off on you."

Walt looked down at the paper in his hands. When he realized it had gone quiet, he looked up to find two pairs of eyes on him.

"Whatya got there, Walt?"

"Uh...Branch found some new evidence at Ace Hardware. This is a copy for the wall."

Vic looked up at Branch who held out the plastic bag containing the post-it. Vic read the note. "Holy shit! The guy who robbed the store left an 'I owe you!'"

Branch nodded. "Seems we have an occasionally conscientious criminal on our hands."

Vic scoffed. "When he's not beating the crap out of someone."

Walt stood and walked over to the wall. He tore off a piece of tape from the dispenser, and added the photocopied note to the collection.

He turned and looked at the two in the doorway. "Branch can you call Rich's Auto Repair shop, the site of the third robbery in Sheridan, and ask if any of the other kids ever brought their car in to their shop to be fixed. We know that Evan did, and we already know how Tyler is connected to Rich, but can you check on the other four boys?"

"Sure." Branch turned on his heals to head back to his desk.

Walt returned his attention to the wall.

"Thanks. For coming to the Pony to get me last night."

Walt stilled, but didn't turn around. She must have walked partway into the room, because her voice behind him sounded closer. "I figure I owed you. For doing the same for me in the past."

A pause. "Hope I didn't embarrass myself. Everything's a bit...fuzzy."

Walt turned. "No. You didn't." He held her gaze. "Sorry I fell asleep. I thought I was just...resting my eyes for a moment. What time did you take off?"

"Dawn. It was just starting to get light."

"You should have woken me."

She shrugged. "I thought you might need the sleep."

"Were you ok to drive?"

"Yeah. Hung over, but no longer drunk."

"You feeling ok, now?" He wasn't just talking about the hangover.

She paused again. "Not really, but I'll get through it." He guessed she wasn't talking just about the hangover either.

He turned back toward the wall, and after a moment she joined his side.

"What's our next move?"

He stared at the post-it notes they'd written in Sheridan. "We should check to see if any of these kids have photo albums. Maybe we'll find pictures of some of the other kids, and proof of their connection."

He saw her look up at him out of the corner of his eye. "Photo albums? Really?"

Walt looked over at her. "Do kids not put together photo albums these days?

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Did _you_ put together a photo album back in your day?"

"Well...uh...no. But Henry did."

"Well Henry is an amateur photographer. I'm betting very few of your high school pals had photo albums. That being said, kids, including the boys, take a whole lot more pictures these days. With their phones. But they're not printing the pics and putting together photo albums."

Vic turned toward the open door. "Hey Ferg."

They heard the sound of a chair pushing back, and then the deputy appeared in the doorway.

"What's up?"

Vic walked over to the table and opened the folder laying on it. She pulled out a stack of pictures and then made her way over to Ferg.

"Can you get online and start looking into all these guys' social media accounts? Facebook. Twitter. Instagram. You name it. See if you can find any of the kids' pictures on any of the other kids' sites. We're especially interested if any of the Sheridan individuals appear on the Durant kids' sites, and vice versa. Also, can you see if there is a site or account for the Trailhead Outdoor Club? If there is, check out if there are any pictures posted with any of these folks. And see if you can find someone to contact about the names of the group's members."

Ferg took the pictures from her. "Sure thing."

"Thanks Ferg."

As Ferg headed out of the room, Vic pulled out her phone, opened her list of contacts and then dialed. Someone on the other end picked up.

She gave a light laugh to something the other person said in greeting. "Yeah, that's not why I called. I've got a favor to ask. Could you get copies of the yearbooks from Sheridan high school? The years Evan, Nick and Tyler went there. I'll come pick them up."

She listened to the response. Walt could hear the voice of the other person on the call, but couldn't make out the words.

"Just looking to see if we can find Tyler in any pictures with either Evan or Nick. Or any of the Sheridan kids at a cross-school event with the Durant kids. Also, could you stop by Tyler's house to see if you could get Tyler's computer, assuming he has one, so we can check to see if he has any pictures on it. And if his mother will let you in the house, if you can get a look at his bedroom. See if he has any pictures up that have one or more of the other kids in it."

She nodded at something the other person said and then smiled.

"Thanks."

She paused.

"Seriously, you've got to stop it. I mean it." She laughed. "Give me a call if you find something."

She hung up and slipped her phone back into her pocket before looking up at Walt. "Leo is going to get us Sheridan High yearbooks, and any of Tyler's photos he can get his hands on."

"Ok." Walt looked at the open door. "Leo still trying to get you to play for their team?"

"Uh...I guess."

"Are you...thinking about it?"

"I...I don't know. I've been too busy to take the offer seriously."

"Maybe...maybe you should."

She stiffened.

"Are you trying to get rid of me? Do you want me to leave?"

Walt turned back to the wall, but he couldn't focus on anything in front of him. "I just...I just want you to do what is best for you."

He turned back toward her.

Her lips pursed, she lifted her chin. "Would me leaving be best for _you_?"

"This isn't about me."

Her eyes flashed, her voice hushed, with an edge of anger. "Believe me, you've made that painfully clear."

She pivoted, storming toward the doorway.

"I don't want you to leave. That's not what I'm saying."

She stopped abruptly but didn't turn.

He ran his hand along the back of his neck. "We haven't talked about why you were drinking last night. If you're unhappy here...if going to Sheridan would make you happier..."

Vic turned toward him, her eyes large, her mouth slightly open. "Happier?"

Ferg suddenly appeared beside her in the doorway. Vic clamped her mouth shut and looked toward the window.

Seemingly oblivious to the tension between them, Ferg took a step into the room. "So, I've been thinking. In addition to checking these kids' social media sites, we should check their cell phone logs. Maybe some of them called each other.

Vic's eyes snapped back to Walt's.

"I just remembered that Dorothy said that Tyler was texting someone while he was eating at the Bee on Monday morning. When we saw Tyler later that day at the Pony, and I entered my number in his phone, I quickly looked at his texts, but he didn't have any listed for Monday. Or Sunday. Either he deleted the texts, or he used a different phone when he was texting."

She turned toward Ferg. "Can you call the phone carriers and get the logs? Their phone numbers should all be in the file Haskill sent."

Ferg nodded, and then headed back to his desk.

Vic stood in the doorway, but avoided Walt's gaze. "Uh...I'm going to go see if Dorothy remembers anything else about Tyler's phone usage. And I'm going to stop by the Pony and see if Henry remembers Tyler using his phone Sunday night or Monday afternoon when he hung out at the bar."

Before Walt could say anything she was gone.

XX

"Dad?"

Walt blinked and Cady came into focus.

"What?"

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

He looked down at their plates. Picking up his knife and fork, he cut into his steak.

"Sorry. It's been a long week."

"You work too much."

Walt shrugged. "I work a lot. I'm not sure it's too much."

As he lifted his fork to his mouth he looked up and found Cady's eyes still on his.

"How's the case going? I heard you were up in Sheridan yesterday."

Walt arched an eyebrow.

She smiled. "Ruby told me when I called the office with my daily reminder of tonight's dinner."

The corners of Walt's mouth turned upwards as he returned his focus to his plate.

"Yep. We went to interview the victims from some potentially related cases."

"And?"

"We think some of these kids know each other. But we haven't been able to prove anything."

"So what's the next step?"

"We..." He paused and looked up at her. "Punk, tonight I'm here with you, and taking a break from the case...so I'll stop there. Let's talk about something else."

Cady openly looked at him from across the table.

"What?" Walt swore he hadn't been distracted, and had actually been paying attention to the latest part of their conversation.

"Are you going to tell me?"

Walt's forehead creased in confusion.

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me who you're seeing?"

"Who I'm seeing? What are you talking about?"

"After you were acting so antsy and being so evasive on Saturday morning, I thought I'd ask Henry if he knew what was going on. He thought there might be someone you're involved with."

"Henry?" He looked at the man in question across the crowded room as he silently wished they could go back to talking about the case.

"Yes, Henry. Your best friend, and one of the people who can read you best."

_Traitor_, Walt thought as he glared at his friend, who was busy taking someone's order. So much for his so called 'bartender confidentiality.'

Walt briefly sucked in his lower lip. "When did you talk to him about this?"

"Tonight. Before you arrived."

He brought his eyes back to his daughter. "Henry doesn't tend to pry or encourage people to meddle." Henry was very hesitant to meddle on his behalf concerning Cady back when she was dating Branch and he was trying to determine who she was seeing.

"Ok, technically he didn't _say_ anything. But his _not_ saying anything spoke volumes. He is always quick to squash rumors or correct untruths. So his silence suggested there _is_ something going on with you."

"There's nothing to share. I told you on Saturday, I'm not dating anyone."

"No, you told me on Saturday you're not dating Vic. I know how you can select your words carefully to avoid the truth without technically lying."

"Punk, I'm not dating...or seeing...anyone."

"I don't think I believe you. I'm going to work on Vic next. See what she knows."

Walt straightened and leaned into the table. "Don't." He saw Cady's eyes widen in surprise at his tone. "Don't bring Vic into this, I mean. She has some things going on...in her life...so I don't want you to bug her with personal questions about me."

Cady paused as she watched him closely for a moment. "Ok."

He wanted to steer the discussion away from Vic. "Why the sudden interest in my personal life these past few days?"

"Somebody has to look out for you, since you don't tend to do it for yourself. And since you tend to hold things in, I have to pry to get you to open up."

Walt held her eyes for a moment before slicing another piece of steak on his plate.

She grinned. "And payback...for your interest in my love life not so long ago. Despite my insistence there was nothing going on with anyone."

"And yet there _was_ something going on."

"Exactly. Which is why I don't quite believe you when you say nothing is going on. You've been acting kind of strange, so something is up. And if you're not going to share, I'm going to have to pry."

Walt ate the last bite of his steak, grabbed his beer and leaned back in his seat.

"It's ok if you're seeing someone. You can tell me."

He silently took a swig of beer.

Cady leaned into the table. "And what did you mean when you said there was something going on in Vic's life? I saw her two nights ago and she didn't mention it."

He kept his expression neutral as he looked at her over his beer. "I didn't realize you two were friends."

"We're not...exactly. But you said I could give her number to my co-worker, so I—"

"I didn't say you could give her number to your co-worker. I said you could give it to him if she wanted you to. I hope you didn't just go ahead and do it."

"Of course I didn't. Which is why I stopped by the office on Monday night. To ask her."

Walt's gut clenched remembering the sight of Cady and Vic talking on the street outside his office window. Would it show too much interest if he asked how their conversation had gone?

Before he could make up his mind about asking, they were interrupted by the sound of glass shattering. Like many nearby in the room, they turned toward the bar, where some commotion had broken out. They heard a muffled grunt.

Walt stood to get a better view. "I'll be right back."

Without waiting for Cady's response he headed to the bar, where he found AJ Jensen on a stool, the broken remnants of a beer bottle at his feet. He was leaning forward trying to get the attention of one of the bartenders.

Walt placed his hand on AJ's shoulder. "AJ."

AJ spun around as Walt took a step back.

AJ's confused expression turned to one of recognition as he landed on Walt.

"Walt. I'm trying to order another drink. You're still good friends with Henry. Can you help a guy out?"

"Actually, AJ, I think it's time to call it a night."

"I'm not that drunk. The bottle just slipped."

Walt had to agree that AJ's speech wasn't slurred and he seemed to be able to hold his balance on the stool, but there was a slight glossiness to his eyes. Or maybe it was just tiredness.

"I think you should stop while you're ahead. You have a son who needs you to hold it together."

AJ's eyes briefly held his and then he hung his head. "I know."

Walt looked over at Cady for a moment before turning back toward AJ. "I'll drive you home. Give me a moment."

Walt walked back to their table.

"Punk, I need to give AJ a ride home."

Cady looked over at AJ and then back at Walt. "That's fine."

He ran his hand over the hair at the back of his neck. "We can do breakfast this Saturday. Make up for the one we weren't able to do this past weekend."

"Sounds good."

He gave her a smile, and she smiled in return.

"Sorry."

"It's ok. You're always the sheriff, even when you're not on duty."

XX

Walt looked down at AJ as he sat at his kitchen table with his head in his hands, and then tapped him on the shoulder with the glass of water he had poured him. "Here. Drink this."

AJ sat back and stared at the glass of water before reaching out to take it.

Walt leaned back against the counter as he looked around the room. It dawned on him that he had never actually been in AJ's house. Even when he stopped by after Olivia's death he had stayed on the front porch.

"Why were you at the Pony tonight, AJ? Isn't Tuck still at the hospital?"

"My sister-in-law Amelia...Olivia's sister...is with him. She wanted to give me a break." He looked up with a shrug. "I think she wanted to give Tuck a break as well."

AJ's gaze drifted to the window over the sink. "I came back to the house but just couldn't be here alone. I've been in this empty house these past months while Tuck's been back at school but couldn't do it tonight. So I ended up at the Red Pony."

He looked up at Walt. "How did you never drink yourself into a stupor in the months following Martha's passing? I don't remember you ever making a scene."

"I did, just not at the Pony. I did most of my drinking at my cabin."

"How did you come out...whole...on the other end of all that?"

"Whole...maybe...but not unchanged."

Walt pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table from AJ and sat down. "I...I have people who look out for me. Who didn't let me fall apart to the point where the pieces couldn't be put back together."

AJ looked across the table at him. "Your daughter?"

"Yep."

"You raised a good kid, Walt."

"How she turned out had little to do with me. That was mostly Martha."

"You did something right, because she wouldn't have moved back here if she didn't think you deserved it."

Walt shrugged, as his thoughts turned to Cady.

"And I'm guessing you still have Henry in your corner."

Walt blinked and then nodded. "Yep. Haven't been able to shake him."

"And your deputy."

Walt stilled. "My deputy?" His brow creased in confusion. "You mean Vic?"

"Yeah. I can see that she looks out for you as well."

Walt continued to look at him with a confused expression. He didn't think AJ knew Vic, other than from her involvement with the case that week. "What do you mean?"

"She stopped by the hospital on Monday night."

"She did?"

"Yeah."

"Did she have more questions for Tuck?" Is this what Vic was doing when she said she had plans?

"No, she just wanted to check in on him. And me. She came over after work. Even brought me dinner because she suspected I hadn't eaten. I assumed it was something she was doing for you, since she knows we know each other."

Taking in the information, Walt pushed AJ's glass of water closer to him as a reminder to keep drinking.

AJ absent-mindedly picked up the glass. "We got to talking about you. I told her some stories about you in high school." AJ gave a laugh. "She had a lot of questions. I hope I didn't share anything you'd been meaning to keep secret."

His eyes on Walt, AJ brought the glass of water to his lips and took a sip. "She talked about Cady getting hit by the car last year, and how worried you were, but how you held it together and were there for her. And she told me about some of the other things you've done for the community."

Walt stared down at his hands, which grasped his own glass of water in front of him. "All of that was just me doing my duty as Sheriff."

He looked up. "Do...do you have people looking out for you, AJ?"

"I've got Tuck."

"He's still a kid, and away at school most of the time. Do you have anyone else you've been able to turn to?"

"My sister-in-law Amelia, and her husband Mitch, live nearby. They've been...amazing."

"Good." Walt held his eyes. "Is Tuck getting any help dealing with the loss of his mother?"

AJ ran his hand through his hair. "He was seeing a counselor for a little bit."

Walt looked down at his glass. "But he stopped going?"

"Said it wasn't...helping. He...he is doing some group therapy now. Up in Sheridan."

Walt's eyes darted back up to AJ. "Sheridan?

AJ nodded. "Started going up there this summer."

"Why go to a group in Sheridan and not here in Durant or down in Laramie?"

"Durant's too small a community. He didn't want there to be anybody that knew our family in the group. And he worried about recognizing someone from school if he did it in Laramie. So he found a group in Sheridan, and was able to still make it work once school started since he comes home most weekends."

"Has he mentioned any of the people he's met up in Sheridan since he started attending these group sessions?"

"No. No one specific."

"What day does he go up to Sheridan for the group counseling?"

"Sundays. He does a morning shift at the store, and then heads up there after lunch. He drives back to Laramie afterwards."

"Where does the group meet?"

"Uh...I'd have to check with Tuck."

Seeing AJ try to hide a yawn, Walt pushed back in his chair and stood. "I should take off. We both could use a good night sleep."

AJ stood and followed Walt to the front room.

At the door, Walt turned. "AJ...I...I'm sorry I haven't been there more for you these past months."

"You were still healing, Walt, and probably weren't ready to be there for someone else. It wouldn't have been good to open almost closed wounds."

"Still. You were there when Martha died. I pushed you away...but you were there."

"You're here for me now, Walt. And I thank you for that."

"I'm going to figure out who's responsible for what happened to Tuck."

"I know you are, Walt. And I know it's not just because of your duty as Sheriff."

XX

Walt pulled to the side of the road, just before the end of the driveway, put his truck in park and looked up at the house. All the windows were dark, and he wondered if she was home.

He looked down at his watch. 9:34. He didn't think Vic would go to bed that early, but maybe her previous night of drinking had taken its toll.

So all the lights were off because she was already asleep.

Or still out.

Or in a room on the other side of the house.

Walt rubbed his hand across his face.

He should go home.

He wanted to go knock on her front door.

In all the times he'd sat in this same spot before, he'd never really thought he'd get out of his truck. But for the first time he was actually considering it.

He moved his hand to the door handle and with a deep breath, began to pull it toward him. At that moment the front lights of a passing vehicle cut through the darkness and he paused. He watched the car pull into a driveway down the street. For minutes he stared at the parked car in his rear view mirror.

After a final deep breath, Walt dropped his hand, moved the column shift into drive, slowly removed his foot from the brake and pulled out.

XX

Despite the poor sleep he'd had that week, Walt was oddly awake, and decided that he'd stop by the office to pick up the case file so he could go through it again at home. The street outside was quiet as he exited the Bronco, and the sound of his door slamming shut seemed loud to his ears.

He pulled the front door to the building open and ran squarely into Vic. The box she was carrying fell to the floor.

"Sorry." They both apologized in unison as they squatted to retrieve the items that had spilled. Still kneeling, Walt paused and looked up at her.

"What are you still doing here?"

"Ferg and I have been going through the pictures and yearbooks I picked up in Sheridan today." She looked down at the box. "I'm bringing them home with me so I can continue looking through them."

Vic adjusted the box in her hands to her other hip. "Where are you coming from? Were you out on a call?"

This was the first time he and Vic had crossed paths since that morning. It had been Ruby that had informed him that Vic had headed up to Sheridan that afternoon.

"Uh...no. I had dinner with Cady tonight."

"Oh. Right. Your rescheduled breakfast from Saturday morning."

"Yep."

"How'd it go?"

"It went well. Had to cut it a little short so I could take AJ Jensen home. He was hanging out at the Pony and had a little too much to drink."

"He ok?"

"He will be. Eventually."

They both stood staring out into the empty street.

Walt thought about his dream from the previous night. About Vic calling him 'moveless.' About AJ telling him that she had shown up at the hospital to check in on him. And about realizing that he almost got out of his truck to knock on her door.

He ran his fingers along his lower lip. "I'd miss you."

He saw Vic's head turn toward him out of the corner of his eye. "What?"

"If you took the position in Sheridan County, I'd miss you."

He looked over at her. She looked back at him, her mouth slightly agape.

"I probably don't have any right to say that, given..." He looked down at the sidewalk, his voice trailing off.

They both heard a sound behind them, and looked through the glass in the front door to see Ferg reach the bottom of the stairs.

He looked back at her, wanting to finish his point before Ferg emerged. "I just...wanted you to know."

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**Your feedback and PMs motivated me to get this next chapter written and posted before my hectic week begins. Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**It took me a while to get this next chapter written. I had immersed myself in Season 4, but needed to take a step back to wrap my head around these versions of the characters, and this storyline, again. Thanks for your feedback and continued support!**

* * *

Vic threw herself into the driver seat of her truck, laid her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes tightly, hoping the world would make sense when she opened them.

It didn't.

The cool air and a batch of goosebumps along her skin reminded her that the door was still open so she reached out her hand and yanked it shut.

He'd miss her! He didn't want to be with her, but he'd miss her? What was that?

She jammed the key in the ignition and fired up her truck, shifting it in to drive, but kept her foot on the brake as she thought back to that moment just minutes ago, outside the front door to the station.

He'd said it. He'd told her he'd miss her if she left. She'd felt her lips part in an involuntary gasp she'd hoped he hadn't noticed. With his eyes on her, and Ferg approaching on the other side of the door, he'd concluded his admission with an "I just wanted you to know."

Ferg had appeared between them, clueless and earnest as he greeted Walt and then walked with them to their vehicles, filling the silence with some rambling comments about the case she hadn't paid attention to.

On the sidewalk, outside the Bronco, the three of them had parted ways. She hadn't looked back as she and Ferg made their way to their vehicles, surprised that she'd managed to get out a goodnight to the deputy when they had reached his Trans Am.

Arriving at her own truck, she'd opened the back door and dropped the box of Sheridan High yearbooks on the seat as she heard the other two vehicles start up. Ferg had pulled out first, followed by Walt who had slowed the Bronco as it lined up with the side of her Dodge. Not wanting to meet his eyes, she'd ducked her head into her open backseat door, pretending to look for something. When she'd been sure he'd finally pulled away, she'd straightened and looked out at the empty street.

And now, with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, she released her foot from the brake and headed home. Home to another restless night. Home to a quiet house, and an empty bed, and too much time spent in her own thoughts.

XX

Reaching the top of the stairs, Vic didn't bother turning on the light. She hadn't turned off the lamp downstairs, and was therefore able to see her way over to the bed. When she reached its side she dropped the box on the mattress. Pulling her phone and keys from her pockets, she placed them on the end table and shrugged out of her jacket, letting it drop to the floor. With an exhale, she collapsed on to the bed, face first.

How could she be both exhausted and fully awake?

She flipped over with a grunt, her eyes drifting to the window. From her position on the bed she could see up into the dark sky. The stars. The moon. Everything seemed closer and larger out here in Wyoming.

She breathed in deeply, intentionally lengthening both the inhale and exhale. After a few breaths she felt a little calmer. The world still didn't make sense, but she could think a little more clearly.

Her cell phone rang and she grimaced. For a moment she thought about letting it go to voice mail, but then relented and sat up. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she turned toward the table and picked up her phone. She froze at the name on the screen.

She paused and then answered. "Hey."

Silence.

"Did I wake you?"

His voice rumbled in her ear as she tried to picture where he was in his cabin while he talked to her. "No. I'm on my bed, but not in it."

"I...there's something I didn't tell you when I saw you earlier outside the office."

She swallowed. "Ok."

"It's...it's something AJ told me about Tuck when I saw him tonight."

She closed her eyes as she lay back down, her legs still hanging over the side. Of course. The case. "What's that?"

"AJ said that Tuck is going to group therapy. Grief counseling. In Sheridan. Every Sunday on the weekends he comes home. He started this summer."

Her eyes opened. Sheridan?

"I don't know if or how that connects him to the other individuals in Sheridan, but it at least puts him in the vicinity on a weekly basis."

She placed her hand on her forehead, and then ran it through her hair. "Do you think any of the others are in the group with him? Maybe that's why Evan and Tuck recognized each other. Maybe they are in this group together, and didn't want to admit it."

"Maybe."

"I didn't get a sense that either of Evan's parents are dead, when we talked to him on Tuesday, but you never know. I guess he didn't talk much about them, one way or the other."

"We can try talking to Tuck again. And I'll get the location where the group meets from AJ and we'll see if they'll share anything with us. Probably won't, but worth a try."

She looked up at the ceiling. "Ferg hasn't found any pictures online that prove these kids are connected. Evan and Tuck haven't posted much lately on Facebook or Instagram. Tyler and Nick post the most, but Ferg didn't find any of the other kids in their pics. I only just started looking in the yearbooks." She looked down at the box near the end of the bed. Based on how tired she was, she realized she had been overambitious thinking she'd get through more tonight.

Silence settled in between them. The silence, over the phone, was strange. When they were face-to-face, the way that he would look at her, or not look at her, or raise an eyebrow, or suck in his lower lip were all forms of communication. Now, without being able to see him, the silence was just that. Silent.

"I...I should let you go. I was still up, and thought you might be too. But it's late. We can talk more about this at the office tomorrow."

Vic bit down on her lip, and then sat up, crossing her legs and tucking them beneath her. "Is that the only reason you called? To tell me about Tuck?"

A pause. "Part of it."

"What's the other part?"

Another stretch of silence. "I was worried I said something I shouldn't. Earlier. Outside the office."

Vic's head fell. "Shouldn't, because it wasn't true?"

"No. Because...because I think I frustrated you. With my mixed messages. That's...that's not what I intended."

"What did you intend?"

"I didn't intend..."

A pause.

"I...I just said what I was thinking in that moment."

A longer pause.

"You had been in Sheridan this afternoon, and I thought about you being up there for good, and it just...hit me...that I'd miss you. I just wanted to tell you that."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you want to tell me?"

More silence. She really wished she could see his face. Read his expression.

"You called me 'moveless' last night. I...I don't want to be that. I don't want to be 'moveless.'"

She thought about his admission outside the front door of the station, as well as the one just seconds ago.

She thought about how hard it was to read his silence while on the phone, and how much more connected she felt when they were communicating.

"I don't want you to be 'moveless' either, Walt."

XX

Vic placed the box down on the left side of her desk, removed her jacket and threw it over the back of her chair. She looked into Walt's office and saw him on the phone. She glanced over at Ruby, who was also on a call at her desk. Sitting down in her chair, Vic pulled out her laptop and turned it on. When it had booted up, she signed in to her email account. Scanning through her inbox she landed on a message she hadn't expected. Or at least one she'd forgotten she'd been expecting.

She double clicked on the email and read the opening paragraph. When she finished reading she launched the attachment and began scanning the file. Advancing to the second page, she suddenly stopped. With a quick intake of breath, she froze. _Holy shit!_

She pushed back from the desk and jumped from her chair.

"Hey Walt!" She saw Ruby look over at her, phone in hand, and a startled expression on her face.

Vic picked up her computer but when she tried to turn toward Walt's office, she felt a tug and remembered it was still plugged in.

"Walt!" She fumbled with the cord, trying to pull it out of the back of the laptop.

"Walt!"

She suddenly freed it from the power adapter, and turned, hitting Walt square in the chest. His hand came out to grab her elbow and steady them both.

She looked up at him, her eyes big.

"What is it?"

She could feel his hand still gripping her elbow. "Can we go in your office?"

Walt held her gaze with a questioning look and then dropped his hold on her arm and headed for his door. Vic followed him, closing the door behind her.

Walt stood with his hands on his hips, his gaze steady.

"On Monday..." She took a breath and re-started. "On Monday night, after I left work, I stopped by the hospital to see AJ and Tuck. To check in on them."

Walt nodded. "AJ told me."

Surprised, she blinked. "Right." She looked out the window for a moment. "The next morning, as I was driving up to Sheridan, I decided to uh...to call the Sheriff's Office down in Albany County. I wanted to..." She looked back at Walt. "I wanted to learn a little more about AJ's wife's car accident, since I hadn't heard anything about it when it happened."

"You could have asked me about it."

"I know. I just...I didn't want to stir up memories when you're already dealing with so much right now. So I thought I would just call and ask a few questions."

Walt looked at her. "Ok."

"Well, the deputy I talked to, Collins, promised to send me the file."

She paused. "I just received an email from him, and was reading the file when I stumbled across..." She took a breath and then stepped forward, turning as she reached Walt's side. "I saw this." She pointed toward her laptop screen.

Walt leaned in and peered at the document, reading the section Vic was pointing to. When he looked over at her, his eyes intense and fiercely focused on her, she knew he had read what she had read.

She looked down at the screen. "That's how they're connected."

He straightened, his gaze back on the laptop.

She looked over at him. "I'm assuming the department told AJ who was behind the wheel of the vehicle that hit his wife's car."

Walt nodded as he brought his hand to his jaw.

"And Tuck as well."

"If the department didn't, AJ would have."

"That's why Tuck recognized his name when we showed him his picture."

Walt looked up from the screen. "I never asked AJ if he recognized any of the other kids. He wasn't in the room when we asked Tuck."

"Do you think AJ would recognize his name, all these months later?"

Walt stared at the door. "That's not something you forget. The name of the person who killed your wife. Accident or not."

Vic looked up at Walt. "When you asked Tuck if he recognized him, he said he'd never met him. And maybe that's true. Maybe he found out that he was the driver behind the wheel, but actually hasn't met him in person."

Walt shifted his weight. "Maybe. But since he didn't reveal that he had at least heard of Evan Brandt, I'm not sure what to believe right now."

He looked at Vic. "We need to go talk to him. To both of them."

XX

Vic kept watching Walt out of the corner of her eye. He hadn't said a word since they left the station.

When he brought the Bronco to a stop in the hospital parking lot, he turned off the engine but made no move to get out of the truck. He ran his right thumb along the knuckles of his left hand. "I'll talk to AJ first. By myself."

She turned her head. "Ok."

"And then we can both talk to Tuck."

She watched as he stared at the hospital entrance through the windshield. "Sure." She paused. "You ok?"

Walt looked out his driver-side window. "I have a feeling that we're going to surprise AJ. It will be a surprise to learn that Evan is one of the robbery victims. And since we don't know if it's just coincidental or intentional...Evan's involvement...I'm not going to have answers to the questions AJ's bound to ask."

Vic watched him as he lapsed back into silence.

"Walt, are you ok?"

"It's why he brought his car in."

"What?"

"The car accident in May. It's why Evan brought his car in to be fixed at Rich's Auto Repair shop. Must be why he had the cuts on his face and arms that Rich mentioned."

Vic stared out the windshield and recalled their conversations on Tuesday with Evan and Rich.

She looked back at Walt. "You're not blaming yourself for missing this, are you? For not remembering Evan's name from an update you got on the accident five months ago? There's no way in hell you should have remembered that fact. I don't remember the names of the people in car accidents here in Durant that happened last month."

"They're not accidents that resulted in the death of your friend's wife."

"Walt. Seriously."

His hands gripped the steering wheel as he continued to stare straight ahead. "If Tuck learned about Evan, and found out where he lived, did he join the therapy group in Sheridan to give him an excuse to be up there each week? So he could what? Stalk him? Plot his revenge?"

"Walt, the car accident was deemed to be just that. An accident. AJ and Tuck would have been told that. We don't know if his—"

"And how is any of this connected to the robberies? Did Tuck partner up with Tyler to get revenge? Did he learn that Nick was Evan's best friend, and include him in the attacks as well?"

He turned toward her. "If they did...partner up...it doesn't explain why Tuck ended up so seriously injured on Monday? Did Tyler turn on Tuck, and have a different partner pull off the four Durant robberies, including the robbery of Tuck's father's store?"

"Walt let's not make any assumptions or jump to any conclusions until we've talked to Tuck."

He rubbed his hand across his eyes.

Vic tentatively placed her hand on his shoulder. "Are you ok?"

Walt looked her way, his blue eyes latching on to hers. He held her gaze without a word, and for a moment they sat staring at each other in silence.

She thought about feeling connected to him in that silence.

She wondered if he felt the connection too.

And then he blinked and broke eye contact as he looked down at the space between them.

Vic saw movement outside the window.

"AJ."

Walt's head snapped up. "What?"

She nodded out the windshield at AJ who had taken a seat on a bench near the entrance to the hospital, not far from the Bronco.

Walt's hand went immediately to the door handle, his eyes on AJ. After a moment he turned toward her. He hesitated as their eyes met again, and then exited the vehicle.

She watched him walk toward the bench, his head bent slightly as he approached. When he arrived, AJ looked up at him.

"Walt."

"AJ...I need to talk to you about something." With the windows of the Bronco closed, their voices were faint, but Vic could still hear them.

AJ stood, seeming to sense that there was something in what Walt was going to say.

Walt brought his right hand to his hip. "One of the robbery victims up in Sheridan on Saturday was...Evan Brandt? He was—"

"The kid..." AJ took a step back in surprise. "The kid behind the wheel of the car that hit Olivia's."

Walt stood silently, holding AJ's gaze.

A minute passed as the news sunk in, and then AJ ran his hand through his hair and began to pace in front of the bench. "What does this mean?"

Walt watched AJ pace.

"What does this mean, that both Tuck and this kid who ran into my wife's car are attacked by the same person? What are the odds of that?"

"We don't know yet. We're not sure if it's coincidental or not."

"Coincidental? How can this be coincidental?"

"We haven't confirmed who is behind this to know how they might be connected to both Tuck and Evan."

"But you have a suspect, right? Chip Walton told me you stopped by Kyle's room and let them know that you have a 'person of interest' you're looking into. That you're investigating."

"We have a person of interest that we have not been able to connect to your son."

"But you've connected him to this Evan Brandt kid?"

"We know that they've met, but we haven't uncovered anything other than that. We have no motive. And the kid has an alibi for both robberies."

AJ dropped his chin, digging his hand into the hair at the back of his neck.

Walt looked over at Vic and then cleared his throat.

"Deputy Moretti and I need to talk to Tuck, AJ. To see what else he can tell us about his therapy group in Sheridan. To discuss whether he's had any interaction with Evan. And to see if there is anyone that they are both connected to."

AJ nodded his head. He glanced over to the Bronco as Vic opened the passenger door.

"And AJ?" AJ pulled his eyes away from Vic and looked over at Walt. "We want to talk to Tuck without you in the room."

AJ nodded as he sunk down onto the bench. "Evan Brandt. God..."

"I'll come find you when we're done talking to Tuck."

AJ nodded, but, lost in his own thoughts, no longer seemed to be listening.

XX

Tuck's eyes travelled between the two, settling on Vic.

"Checking in on me again?"

"A little of that." She glanced over to Walt, who was at the side of the bed, removing his hat. "We also have some questions for you."

Walt stepped closer to the bed.

"Tuck, your dad told me that you've been going to group counseling up in Sheridan these past months."

Tuck's eyes darted up toward Walt.

"Uh...yeah."

"Why did you choose to go to counseling all the way up in Sheridan instead of in Laramie? Sheridan is a long way to drive each week."

"I...uh...wanted to go somewhere where I wouldn't know anyone."

"Laramie's a decent size town. You probably could have found something away from campus."

"I started going to the group up in Sheridan in the summer, before school began. Plus I come home almost every weekend anyway, to help out Dad with the store. An extra forty-minute drive up to Sheridan isn't that bad."

"So choosing to go up to Sheridan had nothing to do with it being the town in which Evan Brandt lives?"

Vic saw the unmistakable flash in Tuck's eyes.

Walt moved closer. "On Monday, when we showed you the pictures of the other robbery victims, it seemed like you recognized Evan Brandt, but when we probed further, you claimed to have never met him. We've discovered how you're connected, Tuck. We have the report from your mom's car accident."

Tuck looked over at Vic and then back at Walt, before lowering his gaze.

Walt looked down at Tuck's bowed head. "You know that Evan was driving the car that ran into your mom's."

Silence.

"Tuck?"

Not looking up, Tuck nodded.

"Is Evan the reason you go up to Sheridan each week?"

Looking away from Walt, Tuck stared out the window.

"Tuck. We're trying to figure out what's going on here. We can't do that if you aren't telling us the truth."

Tuck ran his uninjured hand along the blanket. "It wasn't the reason...initially. I really did choose a group in Sheridan because I didn't want there to be anyone I knew in it."

"And Evan?"

"I was leaving a session one Sunday, on my way back to school, and I saw him. Riding his bike on the side of the road. I had studied pictures of him for so long, I'd know his face anywhere."

"And then what happened?"

"I almost got rear-ended. I was so surprised to see him I hit my brakes and was almost run into by the car behind me. Evan looked over at our cars when the guy slammed on his brakes and honked, but I pulled back from the window and I don't think he saw me. I didn't know if he'd know who I was, but for some reason I didn't want him to see me."

"And?"

"And then I started going up to Sheridan on Sundays to watch him." He bowed his head again. "To follow him."

"Why?"

"I...I wanted to try to figure out who he was. Who could take someone else's life and go on living his life? I wanted to see how he could return to a normal life when mine would never be normal again."

"And what did you learn?"

Tuck looked up. "Do you know Evan hasn't posted anything on Facebook since the car crash?"

Vic watched Tuck twist the edge of the blanket in his hand.

"I read a lot of his earlier posts. Before I saw him in Sheridan." He paused. "But he hasn't posted anything new."

His hand stilled.

"And do you know that I've never seen him drive a car? I only see him riding his bike, or getting picked up. Do you think that's because of the accident?"

He looked over at Vic.

"I don't know what he was like before, but he spends a lot of time alone. Sometimes he's with his brother, or this one friend, but often he's alone. I've followed him on trails, and he'll just hike by himself, and end up sitting on some rock for hours. It's...it's made me feel sorry for him. I wasn't expecting that. I've been feeling so sorry for myself, I wasn't expecting..."

He closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillows.

Walt glanced at Vic before he proceeded. "Have you ever talked to him?"

Tuck shook his head, his eyes still closed. "No."

"What about Nick Waters?"

Tuck opened his eyes, his forehead creasing in confusion.

Vic pulled out Nick's picture and handed it to Tuck. "We showed you Nick's picture on Monday. He's probably the friend you've seen Evan with."

Tuck looked at the picture. "I didn't recognize him when you showed me his picture earlier. He's usually wearing a baseball cap or the hood from his sweatshirt, but yeah, that's the friend I've seen him hang out with." He looked up. "He was in one of the stores that was robbed?"

"He was."

Tuck continued to stare at the picture.

"Have you ever talked with Nick?"

"I haven't talked with either of them. I just watched from a distance. I don't think they've ever seen me. I had no idea if they know anything about me, let alone would recognize me."

"Evan recognized your name when we told him you were in one of the stores that was robbed."

He looked up. "Really?"

"Yep. So did Nick."

Tuck seemed surprised, his eyes growing big. "He...he did?"

"Yep. You sure you didn't interact with either of them?"

"I...I'm sure."

"Is there anyone you have in common? Does someone from your counseling group know Evan or Nick?"

"I have no idea. I don't know any of them that well."

Vic handed Tuck another picture. "What about this kid? Tyler Daniels. We showed you his picture on Monday, but take a closer look. Has he ever been to one of your group sessions? Have you seen him hanging out with Evan and Nick? Have you run into him on the street up in Sheridan?"

Tuck peered down at the picture. "No."

Walt pointed to Tyler's picture in Tuck's hand. "You haven't been working with Tyler to plan something to get back at Evan for what he did?"

Tuck's head snapped up. "What? No!"

"You weren't up in Sheridan all these Sundays plotting how you would get even with him?"

"No. I just followed him around. To learn about his life. I never did anything to harm him."

"How do we know what to believe, Tuck? You've been keeping things from us. Why should we believe you're no longer holding back?"

"I swear, I didn't plan anything with anyone. I never touched Evan." He looked frantically between the two of them. "If I was involved in what happened to him, why would I be lying here with a broken hand?"

"So it's just a coincidence that the guy you've been following around gets attacked two days before something similar happens to you?"

"I...I don't know why both of our stores were robbed, or why we were both injured. But I had nothing to do with what happened to him. I swear."

"What day did you come back to Durant this weekend? Your dad says you usually come back Saturdays after home games, but I know your team had a bye this week."

"I...I came back Saturday. I stayed at school to finish my homework Friday night and then left in the morning."

"How do we know you didn't drive up to Sheridan early Saturday morning, before coming to Durant?"

"I...I didn't."

"If we go talk to Evan and Nick, are they going to tell us a different story?"

"What story? There is no story."

"So we aren't going to find out from them that you have been talking?"

"No. I haven't done anything but follow Evan around."

Walt stood silently, looking down at Tuck as he rotated his hat in his hands.

"Does your dad know what you've been doing?" Vic noticed that Walt's voice now had a gentler tone.

Tuck looked down at his lap again. After a moment he looked up, and shook his head. There was a sheen to his eyes. "He...he thinks I'm doing ok."

"Did you stop going to the group counseling, or are you still going?"

He dropped his head. "I... I haven't gone in a month."

"Because you've solely been focused on following Evan around when you're up in Sheridan?"

Tuck nodded.

"Tuck." Walt waited for him to look up. "I want you to talk to your dad. And I want you to continue with counseling. Maybe something closer to you in Laramie."

Tuck ran a finger under his eye.

Again Walt rotated his hat in his hands, but he did not drop his eyes. "I know what it's like to be...consumed by something. And to keep it all in. It will eat you up inside. You need to find a way to let go. I'm not saying you need to let go of the memories of your mom, or how you felt about her, but you need to find a way to let go of the pain, and the anger, and the obsession. Turning to others, and sharing what you're going through, is a way to start making progress doing that."

Walt looked down at Tuck, his gaze steady. "Ok?"

Tuck nodded. "Ok."

"Can I go get your dad?"

Vic saw Tuck take a deep breath. "Ok."

XX

"I'm going to stay, and talk to AJ."

Vic looked up at him. "Ok."

They stood just inside the front entrance of the hospital, looking out at AJ who still was seated on the bench they had left him on.

He dug into his pocket and then held up his keys. "You can take my truck, and I'll figure out how to get back when I'm done."

Vic looked at the keys. "No, keep them. I'll call Ferg and get him to pick me up."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

They both watched AJ.

"You're a good friend."

Walt ran a hand along the back of his neck. "I'm not. But I'm trying to become a better one."

She looked up at him again, her eyes on his face, watching him look out the window. After a moment she blinked and dropped her gaze. "Do you believe Tuck? That he never talked to Evan or Nick?"

A pause.

"I do. You?"

"Yeah. I think he was telling the truth." She thought back to their conversation. "But where does that leave us? We now know how they're connected, but it seems unrelated to the robberies."

"We need to find who Tyler is working with, and how he is connected to these kids in Durant."

Vic nodded.

Walt finally looked over at her. "You sure you don't want to take my truck?"

She met his eyes. "Yeah. It's not a problem. I think it'll just be easier if I'm the one who asks for a ride. That way you can stay as long as you need, and don't have to worry about coordinating things when you're done."

"Someone will let me use their phone. They always do."

"It's ok. I'll give Ferg a call. He will be here in no time."

"Ok." He held her gaze for a moment. "We'll talk when I get back to the office..." His eyes dropped. "About next steps. In regards to the case."

Her eyes stayed on his face as he lifted his gaze, and turned back to looking out the window. After a moment she looked in the same direction.

"Next steps. Sure."

XX

Vic pushed through the swinging saloon doors, and walked into the room. The Red Pony was hopping.

As she got closer to the bar her eyes locked in on Walt, who was sitting on the last stool. He was talking to Henry, Rainier in hand. Henry looked over at her, causing Walt to turn as well. She paused as his eyes landed on hers. Biting down on her lower lip, she took a breath.

"Vic!"

Startled, Vic turned toward the voice. Cady.

"Uh...hey."

Cady smiled as she stepped up to her side.

Vic glanced over at the bar, seeing Walt turn his head and look down at his beer.

"Just get here?"

Vic brought her attention back to Cady. "Yep."

"Do you have plans? Wanna join us?" Cady motioned toward a table across the room. "Just a few folks from work."

Vic looked over at the table. "Uh...I don't know. I just came here to pick up some dinner."

"We're eating too. Go order your dinner, say hello to Henry and my dad, and then come join us for a bit."

Vic looked back at the bar, her brow furrowing slightly as she watched Walt say something to Henry, and then stand and walk in to Henry's office, shutting the door behind him.

"So? What do you think?"

She brought her eyes back to Cady. "I don't know. Like I said on Monday—"

"This is not a set-up."

Vic arched an eyebrow at Cady. She had seen Cady's colleague Scott at the table.

Cady laughed. "I swear." She dropped her voice. "Dad said that you had...stuff...going on. I don't mean to complicate things."

Vic's eyes darted to the closed office store, trying to keep her voice neutral. "Walt said I had _stuff_ going on?"

"He didn't tell me what it was. Just said not to pester you. Which of course is what I'm totally doing. But...I just thought you might like a distraction. From whatever it is."

Vic tore her eyes away from the door.

Cady smiled again. "Well you've got to wait for your dinner to be made, so at least think about it. We'll save a seat for you."

Vic nodded and then watched Cady turn and head back to her table.

Briefly closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and then proceeded toward the far end of the bar. She slid onto the stool Walt had vacated, her eyes shifting toward the closed door.

"What can I get you?"

Vic turned. "Hmm? Oh. Uh...a BLT and fries to go."

Henry paused. "You are not staying?"

Vic shook her head. "Just picking up dinner."

She saw Henry look across the room. "You were not planning to join Cady and her friends? The empty chair is not for you?"

"Oh...uh...no. I didn't know they'd be here. I was just planning a low-key night. At home. With one of your BLT sandwiches."

Henry paused and then placed a bottle of beer in front of her. "Ok. I will get your order going." He looked at his office door and then back at Vic. "You should go talk to him."

Both her eyebrows slanted upward.

"I think he believed the empty seat at Cady's table was meant for you. He did not want to interfere with your plans."

She glanced again at the office door.

Henry turned and pulled out another beer, which he placed in front of her. "I can bring you your sandwich when it is ready."

He gave her a final look and then headed for the kitchen. She took a swig of one of the beers, and tore at the label as she turned the bottle in her hands. After another long sip, she took a deep breath, and then got up from the stool.

Picking the two bottles up off the counter, she walked over to door. Shifting the beer in her right hand to her left, she knocked.

A pause, and then Walt's muted response. "Yep?"

She swallowed, and then turned the handle.

Walt didn't look up as she stepped into the room and closed the door. He was sitting on the couch his head slightly bent. As Vic moved closer, she noticed a pile of yearbooks on the table, and one in Walt's hands.

"Which yearbooks are those?"

Walt still didn't look up. "Durant High School. They're Henry's copies."

As Vic rounded the edge of the couch, she saw a box on the floor near Walt's feet containing additional yearbooks.

"Henry's copies?"

"Henry has been coaching teams at the high school for years. He also takes some of the pictures they use in these books, so they give him a copy each year."

Vic looked down at the book in Walt's lap as he turned the page.

"Are you looking for pictures of the kids?"

"Yep."

"You need some help?"

He looked up.

"I...I don't want to interrupt your dinner plans."

"I didn't have any dinner plans. Other than picking it up, I mean."

"I..." Walt trailed off as he glanced at the closed door behind her. "You sure?" He brought his gaze back to her.

She nodded.

He paused a moment longer and then turned and picked a yearbook off the table. He raised his eyes back up to hers, and lifted his hand. She handed one of the beers to him and then took the book and sat down on the couch.

Vic opened to the first page, and spent a few minutes looking through the pictures. A dozen pages into the book, she shifted her head slightly and watched Walt out of the corner of her eye. He seemed absorbed in his book, as he poured over the pictures.

"Cady said you told her I was dealing with some...stuff. That you told her not to pester me because of it."

Walt stilled but didn't look up.

"She was trying to...pry...into..." He paused. "I...I didn't want her bothering you with it."

He continued staring down at his lap. "And I was trying to get her onto another topic. She was...she was talking about giving your number to her co-worker again, and I didn't want her to see that I was..." He trailed off.

When he didn't continue, she shifted in her seat. "That you were?"

He looked over at her, meeting her eyes. "Jealous."

A beat passed, and then he bowed his head. "Sorry. I'm doing it again."

She thought back to his admission outside the office the previous night and then to their conversation later on the phone.

"I didn't give Cady my number to give to him."

His eyes darted over to hers. "You didn't?"

She shook her head. "I told her I wasn't ready to be set up with anyone."

"Oh."

He turned his head to look straight ahead. She watched as he stared across the room. After a moment he returned his focus to the pages in the book before him.

Vic's eyes drifted to the box at Walt's feet. One of the books caught her attention, and with a quick glance over at him, she moved the book in her hands to the cushion beside her, placed her beer on the floor and reached in to the box and pulled the other book out.

She opened the yearbook to the index at the back. Finding the name she was looking for, she turned to the first page listed and smiled. She stared at the picture for a moment longer and then returned to the index to look up the next page number. When she turned to the second page listed she smiled again, this time a small laugh escaping.

Walt looked up. "What?"

Vic tried to suppress the laugh. She looked over at him, and then slowly shut the book and turned the cover toward him so that he could read it.

His eyes dropped to the title and then flashed back up to hers.

She let out the grin she could no longer contain. "It's the yearbook from your senior year."

Walt held her eyes for a moment.

She opened the book to the page she'd been looking at. "I found a picture of you and AJ. I've never seen you with such a goofy grin on your face. And those football pants—"

"Ok. That's enough. You can put that down now."

"I'm just doing my research. You went to school with AJ. AJ is Tuck's father, so you're connected to Tuck, and therefore the case." She grinned again.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "That's a stretch."

Still holding her eyes, he suddenly reached out to try to snatch the book from her.

Grinning, she pulled the book away with her left hand, and put up her right hand to block his efforts. When his fingers landed on her forearm, she looked down, expecting him to pull away at the contact, but to her surprise, he didn't.

Walt looked down as well, and after a moment, wrapped his fingers around her wrist and began sliding his thumb slowly along the skin on the inside of her arm. Holding her breath, she watched, almost hypnotized as his thumb made circular patterns.

They sat there, like that, for some time. Neither appearing to breathe. Or able to look away.

At a knock on the door, Vic's eyes flashed up at Walt's face. He looked up but didn't immediately release his hold on her.

After a moment, still meeting her eyes, he placed her hand down on the couch between them and let go.

Without turning her head, Vic picked up the yearbook she'd placed on the cushion beside her. "Come in."

As she heard the door open behind her, she flipped to a page in the book. Walt did the same with the book in his lap.

Henry walked into the room and lay the to-go box containing Vic's sandwich on the edge of the nearby desk.

Vic looked over at him. "Thanks Henry."

She reached into her pocket to pull out her wallet, but Henry lifted his hand to stop her.

"Walt already paid for it."

She saw Walt lift his head out of the corner of her eye, and witnessed the glance between them.

With a final look her way, Henry strode from the room, closing the door behind him.

Walt looked over at the stack of yearbooks on the table and then stood. Reaching down, he picked up the yearbook from Vic's lap, and along with the book in his hand, placed them on the top of the pile. "We can continue looking through these tomorrow. You have your dinner to eat."

He walked over and picked up the to-go box.

She stood and joined him in front of the desk. Taking the box from his hands, she looked up. "I can pay you back."

"You heard Henry. It's already been covered."

She arched an eyebrow. "I think Henry cornered you in to doing that."

Walt shrugged, the slightest of grins on his lips. "You can treat next time."

She blinked, the corners of her mouth lifting to match his. "Ok."

She took two steps backwards, before turning. When she reached the door, she paused and looked back at him.

"Goodnight."

"Get some sleep."

She smiled as she opened the door. "I will. But first I have some research to do."

At Walt's quizzical look, she held up the yearbook from his senior year, and then quickly stepped out of the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for your PMs and your patience. I know it's been weeks since my last update to this story. I've been swamped at work, and after a few attempts to get something written for this chapter, I had to take a total break from all things fanfiction and Longmire. I was so out of the loop, I wasn't even keeping on top of whether they'd renewed the show yet. (They haven't, right?). I woke up yesterday morning, and in a complete procrastination move (I have some work I need to complete by the end of this weekend), I ruled in favor of creative writing instead of business writing, and completed a good chunk of this chapter. Since I had already opened the creative floodgates, I decided to try and finish it today. I'm calling this chapter done and uploading it now (otherwise I'll never get my work assignment completed tonight). Thanks for reading! :)**

* * *

Walt had developed a nightly routine over the last few years. He'd return to his cabin, dinner typically already consumed at The Red Pony or take-out at the office. At the door he'd take off his hat. Followed by his coat. And then his boots.

Before he arrived in the kitchen he'd make two stops. First at the desk, to turn on the lamp and check for a blinking light on his answering machine. He'd always check. He didn't always listen to the messages right away. That first year, especially in the beginning, days would go by before he could bring himself to hit the play button.

His second stop would be at the record player. He'd pull a record from its sleeve, the selection based on his mood that day.

In the kitchen he'd head straight to the fridge, without turning on the overhead light. He'd be greeted by the cool air and mostly empty shelves, and sometimes he'd have a moment where he'd contemplate going grocery shopping. But that thought would quickly pass as his eyes landed on what he'd come for.

Rainier in hand, he'd head back to the front room. If it was cold, he would start a fire, but otherwise he'd go right for his usual spot on the couch, picking up a book from his end table along the way.

He'd alternate between two positions: Sitting with his feet propped up on the coffee table, or laying down with his feet at the end closest to the kitchen, his beer tucked in between his side and the back cushion.

Between the music, and the crackling fire and the words on the pages before him, he could usually, eventually pull himself out of his head. Out of whatever thoughts had consumed him that day. In the early months it had taken several records. And many chapters. And a return to the fireplace to throw another couple logs on. And multiple trips to the fridge. But he'd get there. And when he reached that point, if he was sober enough, he'd get up, and head to bed. Otherwise he'd fall asleep there on the couch, greeted in the morning by a cold room and a collection of empty beer cans.

For the past few years, his slumber had been void of dreams. Well not in those early months. After he made it through the numbness of those first few weeks, the next months often had him waking up in tangled sheets as the anger and the pain and the sorrow coursed through him. But eventually these dialed down to a constant simmer, the nightmares subsided, and he'd wake up each morning having made it through another dreamless night.

Seldom had the routine been disrupted, because he could count on one hand the number of people who had been in his cabin. And other than the time Cady had stayed at his place when she had first returned from Philadelphia, and the time when she was recovering after the car accident, the overnight visits by guests had been rare and brief.

For the last few months, he hadn't fallen asleep on his couch. Not once. There had even been nights where he hadn't had a single beer. But he hadn't messed with the rest of his nightly habits. They brought him comfort. And familiarity. And peace.

Almost a week ago, on that rain-drenched Friday night, Vic had disrupted his nighttime routine. Since that night, he hadn't been successful at getting out of his head so that he could sleep. He'd tried. He could definitely say that. But despite the music, and the fire, and the book in his lap, he could not clear his thoughts. He didn't know how to move forward, and couldn't go back. Things were screwed up. He'd screwed things up.

Saturday night had been brutal. Sunday night as well.

Monday night had been spent on the couch at the office, where there was no fire, or music or beer, and he hadn't tried to read one of his books. He'd tossed and turned, and gotten little rest.

Tuesday night he'd actually slept. But it had been sitting up, on Henry's couch, his thoughts getting a small reprieve, partly out of sheer exhaustion, and partly because the focus of his attention the three previous sleepless nights was seated just a couple feet away.

Wednesday night had been restless again. After the dream he'd had about Vic at the office the previous night, and then his admission about how he'd miss her, followed by their phone call, he could not get his thoughts to settle down. He hadn't even bothered with a book, as he stared into the fire, and re-visited their conversations, both real and imagined.

And last night, as they'd sat on the couch in Henry's office and Vic had shown him his high school yearbook she was looking through, he'd been taken in by the gleam in her eyes. And when his hand had landed on her forearm, he couldn't remove it, focused on the feel of her skin beneath his thumb and the overwhelming desire to keep touching her.

Later, back at his cabin, the book had laid unopened on his chest, and after only one record, he had risen, gone to his room, stripped down to his boxers, and slid between the cool sheets. He didn't think about their recent conversations, or his regrets, or the tension between them.

Instead he saw her bare shoulder.

He remembered the feel of his hands in her hair.

And his fingers at her side.

And his mouth on her neck.

And when he eventually fell asleep, his night wasn't dreamless.

Just before five o'clock he woke with a start, and it took him a moment to realize Vic wasn't actually in his bed.

With his heart pounding in his chest, and his eyes directed at the ceiling, he took a deep breath. And then another. After a few minutes he pushed himself up to a seated position on the side of the bed. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and his gaze landed on his bathroom door. He thought that a shower might help.

It didn't.

As his eyes closed under the stream of water, his thoughts drifted to Vic's mouth pressed against his.

And her laughter in his ears.

And the feel of her fingertips along his chest.

As he got dressed, he remembered Vic pulling his shirt off his shoulders.

As he waited for his coffee to finish brewing, he remembered them tumbling onto the mattress, all arms, and legs, and bare skin.

The cool morning air that greeted him as he stood on his front porch looking out into the dark helped, but the reprieve was brief. He remembered holding her at his side under the umbrella as they ran to the cabin through the rain, and as he turned to lock the front door that morning, he could picture her standing close, looking at him in that distracting way of hers.

With his coffee in his right hand, and the box of Henry's yearbooks in the other, he made his way to his truck.

He rested his thermos on the roof of the Bronco, yanked open the door, and threw the box onto the passenger seat. He retrieved his coffee and then folded himself into the vehicle. Starting up the truck, he opened the driver-side window, removed his hat, and then closed his eyes and leaned back against the headrest. Again, he saw Vic's eyes as she stared back at him. After a moment he shook his head, put his hat back on and shifted into drive.

He needed to get his mind on something else.

XX

Pulling into a spot in front of the motel, Walt looked out his window. About half the rooms had cars in front of them, but all the lights were out, which wasn't surprising given how early it was. He'd been one of the few cars on the road on the way here.

Walt exited his truck and walked the short distance to the front office, looking up at the lighted Big Horn motel sign as he did.

Expecting a drowsy employee behind the desk due to the early hour and low volume of customers, he was surprised by the man's alertness as he entered the room. The man did not appear to be surprised by his presence.

"Morning."

Walt nodded in response. "Morning."

"Need a room or are you here on Sheriff's business?"

Walt briefly wondered if a different bed might help him sleep.

"Sheriff's business."

"Is this regarding that young man who stayed here earlier this week?"

Walt remembered that Branch had stopped at the motel to ask about Tyler.

"Yep. I have a few more questions. Were you the one on duty Monday morning?"

The man nodded and stuck out his hand. "I'm Paul. I talked to one of your deputies on Tuesday."

Walt nodded. "Deputy Connally said you have a working camera."

The man looked down. "We do. I can see the feed here on this monitor."

Walt stepped to the side of the counter so he could see the screen. The strip of rooms and parking spots were visible.

"Which room was Tyler Daniels in?"

"Room 5. Here." He pointed at a room a few past the room Walt was parked in front of.

"Do you remember him leaving that morning?"

"I do, but it's not because I saw it on this monitor. I ran in to him when he was on his way out."

"What time was that?"

"8:10. Maybe 8:15. I get off at 8:00, and chatted to the next guy on duty for a few minutes before leaving."

"Do you remember what Tyler was wearing?"

"Uh...he said he was going hiking. I guess he was dressed like he was going to go do that."

"Red baseball cap?"

Paul paused. "Yeah."

"Did it say T-birds on the hat?"

"Uh...maybe?"

"Was Tyler carrying anything?"

"He had a backpack with him." Paul glanced to the side. "I don't remember him having anything else, but he could have loaded other things in his truck before I ran in to him."

"Was the dog already in the truck?"

Paul's eyebrows knotted in confusion. "Dog? He had a dog with him? We don't allow dogs to stay in the motel rooms."

"Did the dog stay in the truck overnight?"

"I don't remember a dog."

"Did he say anything else to you as he was leaving?"

"He asked where he could grab some breakfast."

"And you directed him to the Busy Bee?"

"Yeah. Well, it was one of the options I gave him."

"Did you see him talk to anyone else at the hotel that morning?"

"No."

"Was there anyone staying with him in his room?"

"Not that I saw."

Walt looked back at the monitor. "Do you record the video feed?"

"We do, but it gets recorded over after twenty-four hours."

Walt looked over at the door through which he had entered. After a moment he turned back toward Paul.

"Is room 5 empty right now?"

"I think so." Paul checked his records. "Yeah, no one's been in it since Mr. Daniels checked out on Tuesday."

"Can I take a look at it?"

"Oh. Um...it's been cleaned since he left."

"That's ok. I'd still like to see it."

"Um...sure. Let me get a key card."

Paul reached into a drawer and pulled out a white card. He typed on the keyboard and then slid the card into the card reader.

"Ok. Ready." Paul led the way out, with Walt right behind him.

Paul looked over his shoulder as they walked down the sidewalk. "What did this young man do that has the Sheriff's department so interested in him?"

"I'm afraid I can't share details from an active investigation."

They arrived at room 5. When Paul opened the door and reached inside to flip the switch, the light from the room spilled out on to the sidewalk, and lit the space between the curtains.

He stepped aside and let Walt enter. Walt scanned the room, passing over the bed and the furniture and landing on the door on the side wall.

He was jolted by the memory of another motel room with a connecting door. He briefly closed his eyes. After a few moments he turned toward the doorway.

"Does this door lead to the next room?"

Paul stepped into the room. "Yes. That's room 6 on the other side. Both doors have to be unlocked, from their own side, for someone to be able to pass through."

"Is there any other way out of this room?"

"No. These are the only two doors. And this is the only window."

Walt stepped further into the room and began to open the drawers in the dresser.

"Is there anyone staying in room 6 right now?"

Paul paused. "I don't think so. There was a couple staying in the room earlier this week, but they've checked out."

Walt looked up. "A couple? When did they get here?"

"I believe they arrived on Sunday, but I don't work the weekend, so I didn't check them in."

"Who was working on Sunday when they arrived?"

"I'd have to check the computer to see when they checked in to confirm."

"And when did they leave?"

"On Tuesday."

"Like Tyler."

Paul paused. "Yeah, I guess they checked in and out on the same days."

"Do you remember what this couple looked like?"

"I...uh...I think they were in their early twenties. I didn't talk to either of them, but I saw them on the monitor when they left their room early Monday morning."

Walt straightened and moved over to the end table. He opened the drawer and then bent down to look under the bed.

"What time did they leave on Monday?"

"I don't remember exactly. It was still dark, so it was before seven o'clock."

"What kind of car did they drive?"

Paul walked to the door and looked out at the parking spots. "I don't recall them having a car. At least not one parked in front of their room. Monday morning they left on foot."

"Did you get a look at them as they walked by the front office windows?"

"They didn't cross in front of the office."

Walt walked across the room and joined Paul in the doorway. "They left on foot, but didn't head out to the road?"

Paul moved to the sidewalk, took a few steps and extended his arm. "These are actually two separate buildings. There's a split here, between room 6 and room 7. This is how they left Monday morning."

Walt joined Paul where he stood, finding a walkway with a gate at the end.

"What's on the other side of the gate?"

"There's a lot, and on the other side of that is a road back to the main road."

Walt started down the walkway. "So the couple from room 6 could have parked back there? Or been picked up by someone parked back there?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

Walt opened the gate, and stepped through. There were a few cars parked in the back, but no one was in sight.

Walt turned and headed back up the walkway. He glanced back at Paul. "Did you see the couple return to their room?"

Paul closed the gate behind them and followed him. "No."

"And when you ran into Tyler Monday morning, did you actually see him come out of his room, or did you just see him outside his truck?"

Paul paused in thought. "I guess I just saw him as he neared his truck."

When they both reached the sidewalk, Paul looked up at Walt. "So you think Mr. Daniels knew the couple in room 6?"

"I'm not sure." Walt pointed toward the open door to room 5. "Are the rooms cleaned every day?"

"Yes. The occupied ones, at least."

"Did the person who cleaned rooms 5 and 6 on Monday mention whether the door on the inner wall was unlocked in either room?"

"That's Jan who cleans them. I'm not sure. She cleans the rooms after I'm gone for the day. But there's a chance that if both doors were closed all the way that she wouldn't have noticed if one or both of them were left unlocked."

"What time does Jan start working?"

"She gets in between 8:30 and 9:00."

"Let's go back to the office and check the records to see what time that couple in room 6 checked in and out, and find out their names."

XX

Walt lifted the coffee carafe as he watched the front of the store out of the corner of his eye. The chime, signaling a customer walking in, caused the cashier to lift his head and nod in greeting at the man who entered. The customer smiled in return and walked up to the counter as he took out his wallet. Walt mentally calculated how long it took him to reach the register.

"Hey Jim. Pump number two."

They continued talking, but Walt couldn't follow along from where he stood. He finished pouring his cup of coffee and was putting on the lid when the door chimed again, this time a woman walking in. The cashier paused to turn his head to look her way.

The woman scanned the store as she stepped over to the counter. She had an impatient air about her. "Do you sell...oh never mind. I see it." She strode down the aisle as she lifted her cell phone to her ear.

The cashier returned his attention to the paying customer, handing him his change.

"Thanks Jim."

"See ya, Nate."

As Nate left the store, Walt watched as the woman approached the counter, still talking on her cell phone. "I'm on my way. I had to stop to get something with caffeine or I was going to fall asleep at the wheel." Jim rang up her beverage after she lifted it in the air for him to see. "Just a sec..." The woman paused her conversation long enough to pull out her credit card.

Walt began walking toward the counter as the woman made her way to the door, the paper cup warm in his hands.

"Can I get you anything in addition to that coffee, Sheriff?"

Walt placed the cup on the counter and pulled out his wallet. "How long have you worked here, Jim?"

"Almost two months."

At the chime, Jim looked toward the door and the new customer walking in, before returning his gaze to Walt.

"This the busy time of the day?"

"It ebbs and flows. It's a little busier than normal right now. Usually picks up closer to seven. People tend to come on the way to and from work, and on the weekends."

Walt handed him a five dollar bill. "This coffee any good?"

Jim smiled as he handed Walt his change. "You're drinking it at your own risk."

With an arch of his eyebrow, Walt placed the bills in his wallet and slid it back into his pocket. "It's the kind of morning where I guess I'm willing to take the risk."

He turned toward the door, but stopped and glanced back at Jim. "Do you know Andy Bowman? I think he started working here a couple weeks back."

XX

Walt stood at the side of his Bronco, the only one at the gas pumps. The Filling Station wasn't as busy as the Exxon had been, but of course it didn't benefit from being right off of 90. As the pump came to a stop, indicating his tank was full, Walt lifted the nozzle and returned it to its perch. He screwed the cover back on, closed the door to his tank, and then headed for the entrance.

He glanced around the store as he walked in, noting that he was the only one there other than the cashier. The man behind the counter hadn't looked up as Walt entered, but closed the magazine he'd been reading as Walt neared the register.

"Which pump?"

"Number one."

The cashier glanced at his screen.

"Twenty-three dollars."

Walt handed him two twenties. As the cashier counted out his change, Walt's saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see a minivan pull up to one of the pumps.

"Here you go."

Walt turned to find the cashier's hand extended, holding out his seventeen dollars in change.

"You worked here long?"

The cashier looked directly at him for the first time.

"Uh...a little over three years." His eyes fell to Walt's badge and then returned to his face.

Walt noticed the yellow stained fingers on the cashier's right hand.

"What do you do when you need to take a smoke break?"

The cashier's forehead creased as he paused before answering. "I wait until it isn't really busy, and stand out front so I can see if anyone comes in."

"Did you hear that this place was robbed on Monday morning?"

Again the cashier's eyes dropped to Walt's badge. "Pete told me."

"Have you seen anyone lingering in the store, or outside the store when you've been on your smoke breaks the past couple weeks?"

The cashier looked toward the front door. "No, not that I can think of."

"What's your name?"

"Steve."

Walt glanced between the door and the register, taking in the distance, before looking back at Steve. "Do you know Kyle Walton, the cashier who was at the register on Monday morning?"

XX

"Walt."

"Morning, AJ."

Walt shifted his weight as AJ continued to look out at him.

"What am I doing? Come in."

AJ stepped to the side and let him enter. "Already working?"

"Yep."

AJ turned and made his way to the back of the store. "Didn't realize you started work so early."

Walt looked around the store as he followed him across the room. "I couldn't sleep. Decided I might as well get some work done if I was already up."

AJ gave a light laugh as he looked back at him over his shoulder. "I know exactly what you mean." He pulled open a door that led into a storage room. "Were you just passing by the store and saw the lights on?"

Standing in the doorway, Walt watched AJ read the labels on a few boxes until he appeared to find the one he was looking for. "I've been stopping by the stores that were robbed on Monday, to see if anything new stands out."

AJ placed a box in Walt's arms, returned to get one of his own to carry and then led the way back out to the store floor.

"Have you gained any new insights?" Placing the box on a nearby step stool, AJ turned and took the box out of Walt's hands.

"Not sure yet. I'm still sorting through everything to see if there is anything there." When AJ opened one of the boxes, removed two bottles and placed them on a nearby shelf, Walt followed suit.

When the box was empty, AJ removed it from the stack and opened the next one.

Walt reached into the box, paused and glanced down at the bottle of whiskey in his hands, thinking back to the previous Friday night. After a moment he placed it on the shelf and turned toward the wine bottles on the other side of the aisle.

"How was Tuck's first night back at home?"

"It was...it was good having him there. I think he was glad to not be sleeping in a hospital bed for another night." AJ turned around and leaned back against the shelf. "He's not done with the hospital of course. He'll have at least one more surgery on his hand. And then they'll be rehab."

"The doctor sounded optimistic about Tuck's recovery."

AJ exhaled. "Yeah."

Walt picked up one of the bottles of wine from the shelf, and then another.

"Didn't realize you'd become a wine drinker."

The corners of Walt's mouth turned upwards. "I haven't. Still a Rainier man." Gesturing toward the options on the shelves in front of him, Walt looked over at AJ. "Do you have a recommendation for a bottle of red?"

"Dinner with Cady?"

Walt thought it would be easier if he went with that as the story.

"Yep."

Joining Walt's side, AJ pulled a bottle off the shelf. "I think she'd like this Shiraz."

Walt looked down at the label and then placed it back on the shelf. "Ok. I'll come back when you're open to buy it."

"Nonsense. Take it with you now. Save yourself a trip."

Walt reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

AJ placed his hand on Walt's arm. "It's on me."

Walt hesitated.

Laughing out loud, AJ returned to the other side of the aisle. "I'm not buying off the Sheriff. It's a thank you." His eyes grew more serious. "For helping my son...talk to me."

Walt held AJ's eyes for a moment. "You don't need to thank me."

"I want to."

Walt bowed his head slightly, and the two stood there silently for a moment before Walt reached into the box, pulled out a whiskey bottle and handed it to AJ.

Placing the bottle on the shelf, AJ turned and crossed his arms. "Ok. Enough helping me out with my work. You came here to do yours."

XX

Walt jumped at the sound of a hand rapping against the window. His eyes flew open, and then squinted in the morning glare. Vic stood outside the passenger-side door, looking in. He froze for a moment, sure that what he had just been dreaming about was evident on his face. When Vic's eyebrows rose in an 'are you going to let me in?' kind of way, he scrambled to sit up. As he ran his hand through his hair, he tried to calm his body down, and shake the fogginess from his brain at the same time.

"Walt."

She didn't sound angry, or frustrated even, but the bluntness of the 't' at the end of his name suggested that she was on the verge of impatience. He fumbled to unlock the door.

As she reached for the handle, his eyes fell first on his hat, then on the box of yearbooks on which his hat rested, and then the brown paper bag containing the wine bottle on the floor. Walt quickly leaned over, picking up the paper bag, and then removed his hat from the top of the box. Pulling back the cardboard flaps, he shoved the wine bottle on top of the books, before lifting the box and placing it behind his seat.

As he turned, Vic was sliding into the passenger side, her eyes on him.

He shifted so that he was facing forward, heat rising in his face as he remembered how he had been picturing her just moments ago.

"Did I wake you from your nap?"

"I..." He cleared his throat as his hand went to the back of his neck. "I wasn't napping."

"So...what'ya doing, then?" He could feel her eyes on him. "Other than not napping."

He continued to look out the windshield. "I'm waiting for Ace Hardware to open."

She took in his rumpled state. "Did you sleep here in your truck last night, waiting for it to open?"

Adjusting in his seat, Walt lifted his left hand to look at the watch on his wrist. "It kind of feels like it, but it's been less than an hour."

He glanced over at Vic, who bore her 'I'm waiting for the full story' look. "I've been stopping by all the stores that were robbed. This was the only one not open. Well technically AJ's place wasn't open, but AJ was there with the lights on, and let me in."

Vic sat silently for a moment, staring back at him. He couldn't read the look on her face, which concerned him a bit. "Why are you visiting all of the stores?"

"I guess I didn't start with the stores. I started with the motel that Tyler stayed at. I wanted to see if I could talk to the person on duty that morning. I thought maybe he'd remember Tyler interacting with someone."

"And?"

"There's a video feed of the hotel rooms that enables him to see the comings and goings on the monitor in the front office. He never saw Tyler leave his room while he was on duty Monday morning. Of course he probably doesn't watch it every moment, so he might have missed something, but he seemed pretty on top of things. He said Tyler's truck was parked outside his room until he left a little after eight."

"And did he see Tyler interact with anyone?"

"No, but there was a couple in their early twenties staying in the room next to his. I'm wondering if it was his partner. Or partners. They stayed at the motel during the same timeframe, and their rooms were connected by doors that could have allowed Tyler to leave the hotel early Monday morning without it looking like he was leaving his room."

Vic shifted in her seat toward him. "So you think Tyler could have been involved in the first robbery? Actually involved, not just waiting in the wings pulling the strings like the other ones?"

Walt's gaze fell to Vic's left knee, which she had pulled on to her seat when she shifted her position. He paused and then tore his eyes away. "It's possible. It's the one robbery he doesn't have a solid alibi for. His truck being parked out front his room doesn't mean he was there."

"Who do you think the couple was?"

"I'm not sure, but I think we should track down that girlfriend he mentioned to Dorothy. The owner of that dog he's been carting around."

Vic arched an eyebrow. "You think she was one of the two people staying in the room next to his? That she's been involved in these crimes?"

"Maybe. It's a place to start, anyway."

Vic looked out the windshield, as they both sat silently for a moment.

"Which store did you start with?"

"I decided to time how long it would take to drive to the Exxon from the motel. Once I was there, I decided to take a look around. At the layout of the store. At other customers around at this time of day. I was able talk to an employee we haven't talked to yet."

"And?"

"The cashier, Jim, has only worked there a couple months. He's still new enough that he takes note of every individual that enters the store, and keeps his eyes on the pumps. The cashier at The Filling Station, which I went to next, has worked there for three years and didn't even look up when I entered."

"Ok."

"If Andy has only been working at Exxon a couple weeks, my guess is that his behavior is more like Jim's. That he's still paying attention to the customers that walk in."

"Ok."

"Andy told you that the person who robbed the store approached him from behind, and because of that he didn't really see him. I'm having a hard time believing that to be true. I think that Andy would have paid attention to every individual entering the store, given how new of an employee he is."

"What if the guy came into the store from the back?"

"Jim says the back door has an alarm on it that's armed when the door's not open to receive deliveries, so the only way in for the perpetrator was to come through the store entrance."

"What if it was really busy, and Andy didn't see the guy enter?"

"Maybe. But there wasn't anyone in the store the entire time it was being robbed, so it might not have been very busy. Jim said it starts getting busier around seven as people fill up on their way to work, but with it being Columbus Day, and schools and some businesses closed, I'm guessing it wasn't very busy at 6:30 that morning."

Vic tapped the middle console with her fingers. "And there's a chime on the door, so the guy couldn't just sneak in when he saw that Andy had his back turned. Which means Andy would have seen the guy enter the store."

"Yep. Regardless of whether the guy entered as a customer and hung out in the store before putting his mask on, or came in to the store in the act of robbing it, mask on, gun drawn, Andy would have gotten at least a glimpse of him when the chime announced his entrance."

"God dammit, I'm tired of these kids lying to us. Do you think he recognized the guy, even with his mask on, and doesn't want to reveal who it was?"

"Possibly."

They both returned to staring out the windshield.

Walt dropped his gaze to his hands which he'd placed on the steering wheel. "How did you know I was here, in the parking lot?"

"I didn't. We got a call at the station from the manager at Ace Hardware."

"He called to report that I was napping in my truck?"

"I thought you weren't napping?"

The corners of Walt's mouth lifted. "Some may confuse my closed eyes for napping."

"He called because he found an envelope slipped under the store's front door this morning. The envelope contained the twelve-dollar 'I owe you' mentioned in the previous note."

He straightened. "Really?"

"Yep.

Vic placed her hand on the door handle. "Wanna go in and talk to him with me?"

Without pausing, he reached out to open his door.

As they made their way across the parking lot toward the entrance to the store, Vic glanced in his direction.

"Why did you do this...investigating...all on your own this morning? Why didn't you call me...any of us...to help you out?"

Walt's steps faltered slightly. "It was early. I didn't think you'd be up when I started at 5:30 this morning."

"You could have come in to the office and waited until I came in."

"I..." Walt didn't think he should admit that he had needed some space this morning. That he was having a hard enough time trying to clear the images of her from his mind, without her being present and making it worse. She wouldn't take it too well if he admitted he was trying to avoid her, because he wouldn't be able to explain why. He needed to stick to the other reasons he had gone out solo this morning.

"I wanted to trace the path the thief took around the same time he took it Monday morning. I didn't think you'd be up when I started, and then just got on a roll."

Once again Walt couldn't read her expression. She, on the other hand, was quite adept at reading him, and could probably tell he was holding something back.

Vic paused with her hand on the door to the store. "Ok."

XX

"Hey Ferg."

Vic pushed through the low swinging door, as Walt stopped at the coat rack to hang up his hat and jacket.

He watched as she placed the plastic bag containing the envelope that had been dropped off at the hardware store on the desk before the deputy. "Look what we've got."

Ferg's eyes grew as he read the message on the back of the envelope. Turning, Walt found Ruby standing in front of her desk with a couple post-its in her hand.

She held out the first one so he could read the note. Sheriff Tom Haskill, returning their call after Vic had left him a message on their drive back to the station.

Ruby dropped her hand. "He's back in the office and says it's your turn to call him."

She held out the second message and let him read it. "She said she was just calling with a reminder."

Walt straightened. "At what point will people just trust that I'm going to remember my plans?"

"You've got to earn that trust, Walter. And with your track record..."

He gave a shrug. "Most of the time my not showing up is not because I don't remember."

"It's because you don't make your personal plans a priority over work-related matters. The reminders are not because they think you'll forget. The reminders are because they want to tell you how important the plans are to them."

Walt held Ruby's eyes for a moment. "Ok. Thanks."

Ruby gave him a soft smile and then returned to her chair.

Stepping through the swinging doors, Walt saw Vic still leaning over Ferg's desk.

"Hey Walt, Ferg's found something interesting."

Ferg beamed at the acknowledgement, and then stood. Walt placed the box he was carrying down on Vic's desk and then stepped closer to Ferg's.

Vic gave Ferg's shoulder a nudge. "Tell him what you told me,"

Ferg placed his hand on a sheet of paper and slid it closer to Walt. "This is a print-out of a picture Tyler had posted. You mentioned that he's been driving around with a German Shepard."

Walt leaned in. The picture was of two girls, late teens or early twenties. Beside one of the girls was a dog that bore a strong resemblance to the German Shepard that had been in Tyler's truck. The girls appeared to be dressed for hiking.

Ferg looked up at Walt. "Neither girl was tagged in the photo, but since it looks like they are out on a hike, they could be part of Tyler's outdoor club...or maybe some of the club members would at least know who they are."

Ferg let Walt study the photograph before continuing. "Also, I don't know if it's relevant to the case, but when I was looking through Tyler's pictures online, and those that he'd had on his computer, I noted that all of the pictures seemed to be from the last couple years. He didn't have any from when he was younger.

Placing one of the Sheridan High yearbooks in front of Walt, he pointed down at a picture. "This is Tyler's freshman year picture. It's the only picture of him in this book."

Walt took in the picture and then looked up at Vic.

Ferg slid a second yearbook in front of Walt. "This is his picture from sophomore year."

Walt looked down at the picture, before glancing back at the freshman year picture. Tyler had lost significant weight in the time between the two pictures being taken. The picture from his sophomore year was a younger version of the Tyler he recognized.

He felt Vic's shoulder against his as she leaned toward the books in front of him. "It supports Rich's claim that Tyler accomplishes the things he sets out to accomplish. That's a lot of weight Tyler lost between freshman and sophomore year. It possibly also supports Rich's claim that Tyler gets obsessive about the things he focuses on."

She looked up at Walt. "Should we go up to Sheridan and talk to Tyler again? Ask him about his girlfriend?"

"Uh...I don't think you'll find him in Sheridan today." Ferg opened up his laptop, and then turned his computer so they could see his screen. "It looks like he is hiking this weekend. He's already posted some pictures from a trail in Devils Tower."

Walt straightened. "I think we need to talk to some other people in Tyler's life."

Walt started to head for his office and then paused and turned around.

"Nice work, Ferg."

Ferg beamed again.

Walt walked in to his office and over to his desk. As he picked up his phone, Vic appeared in his doorway.

Holding up the post-it, he dialed the number listed at the bottom. It rang twice.

"Sheriff Haskill."

"Tom. Walt Longmire."

"Morning, Walt. You called earlier. What's up?"

Walt put the phone on speaker. "There's a chance Tyler Daniels' partner was in the room next to him at the motel he stayed at earlier this week. When I get a description from the person on duty when they checked in, I'll share it with you."

"Ok."

"Also, we want to find Tyler's girlfriend. Tyler's out of town on a hiking trip, so while we wait for him to get back, we want to talk to his mother, Joanne Daniels, to see what she knows about his girlfriend. Can you arrange that?"

"Sure. I know tomorrow is Saturday, but could you head up here then?"

He glanced over at Vic, who nodded. "Sure, that works for Vic and me. Is Rich Sollinger still in the hospital?"

"I believe so."

"Could you arrange the meeting at her home? We'd like to talk to her without Rich in the room, and get a look at where Tyler lives."

"I can arrange that. I'll call you back once I have the meeting confirmed." He paused. "Do you think Tyler's girlfriend is involved?"

"We don't know yet, but we'd like to talk to her."

"Ok. I'll get back to you soon."

"Thanks."

Walt hung up as Vic walked across the room to stand in front of the wall containing what they knew about the case so far.

Joining her side, Walt scanned the information until he found the note he was looking for. He pulled it from the board and walked back to the phone.

Looking over at Vic, he held up the card. "This is the contact information for the two members of the Trailhead Outdoor Club that vouched for Tyler's whereabouts on Saturday morning."

He put the phone on speaker, and dialed the first number listed.

It went directly to voice mail. "Hey, this is Cody. If I'm not answering, it's either because I'm in class or out of range on some mountain. Leave a message and I'll call you back."

Walt hung up, and dialed the next number. After two rings, someone answered. "What's up?"

"I'm looking for Cody. Is he home?"

"Yeah right. He's off on one of his hiking weekends."

"Is Bryce with him?"

"Yep. The two left bright and early this morning."

"Do you know when they'll be back?"

"They're usually back by noon on Sunday. Who did you say you were?"

"I'll call back on Sunday. Thanks."

XX

Walt looked across the table at Vic, but when she started to lift her head, he dropped his gaze.

He was sitting with Vic and Ferg at the table in his office. The Durant High School yearbooks were open before them as they searched through the pictures. After lunch, it had been Vic's suggestion to continue looking through the books since they hadn't made much progress the previous night. It had been his idea to include Ferg.

Again, his eyes drifted to Vic, watching as she sucked on her lower lip.

"Uh...Walt."

Quickly dropping his gaze, Walt momentarily froze, wondering if Ferg had seen where he'd been staring.

Ferg stood and then flipped the yearbook he'd been looking at around. On the page before them was a picture of the Durant high school football team. Walt located both Tuck and Kyle in the picture.

Vic straightened. "We already know that Tuck and Kyle knew each other from football."

"Did you notice what it says over here?" Ferg pointed down to a note on the page. 'Not pictured: Andy Bowman (team manager).' This is the yearbook from Andy's freshman year."

Vic stood and leaned over the table to get a better look. "Andy was one of the team managers? If that was the case, he would know both Tuck and Kyle, but he said he didn't." As she stood, Walt had no problem reading the frustration evident on her face. "I'm going to strangle these shits. Why don't any of these damn kids tell us the whole truth? They're making our work a whole lot more difficult than it needs to be."

Ferg smiled. "Maybe that's why."

At her glare, he placed another yearbook in front of them, open to the football team's picture from that year. "I looked at the football team's picture from Andy's sophomore year. Kyle's still on the team, but Andy's no longer listed as team manager."

Walt pulled the book closer. "We need to ask Andy why he didn't tell us he knew Tuck and Kyle, and about getting a glimpse of the guy who robbed the store, but then telling us he didn't see him."

Vic crossed her arms across her chest. "We should drop by the school, so we can catch him coming out of class. What time does Durant high school get out this afternoon?"

The phone on Walt's desk began to ring. All three of them looked over at it.

Ferg began walking toward the door. "I'll call the school office to find out."

Vic paused a moment and then followed him out of the room.

Walt stood, walked over to the desk and picked up the handset.

"Sheriff Longmire."

"Walt. It's Tom."

Walt looked up as Vic returned to the room, the plastic bag containing the envelope in her hand. He punched the button for the speakerphone, as she shut the door behind her.

"Did you get ahold of Joanne Daniels?" He watched as Vic walked across the room and pulled something off the wall.

"I did. We're on for noon tomorrow, at her home. Do you need the address?"

Vic appeared near the corner of his desk. She hoisted herself up to sit on the edge and then leaned in toward the phone. "We have her address from the report you sent."

"Great. I'll see you two at midday tomorrow. Call if something changes."

"Yep. Sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow."

As he hung up, he looked over at Vic.

"Still good with heading up there tomorrow on our day off?"

"Ah...sure."

Standing a couple feet away, he watched her flip the plastic bag containing the original 'I owe you note' and the one with the envelope they'd retrieved that morning back and forth between her hands and then stop to stare at the messages.

Walt lifted his eyes from her hands to her face. "What?"

"I don't know. Something's bothering me about these notes."

"What?"

"The thief who broke into the hardware store was off camera for what, three or four minutes? In that time he located the aisle with the duct tape, pulled three rolls off the hook they were hanging on, left the 'I owe you note,' ran to the back door, set off the alarm trying to open it, and then ran back to the front door. Did he use a post-it note and pen that he took from the store, or did he bring them with them? Did he even have time to write a note there in the store or did he write the note in advance, which would mean it wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision to leave it, but pre-meditated?"

"We could go back to the store and time the different options."

Vic grinned. "What I wouldn't give to see you running the aisles at Ace Hardware."

"I was thinking more like you would run and I would time."

"Oh really, and why is that?"

"The guy was closer to your body type than mine."

Vic raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you saying I have a boy-like frame?"

Walt paused. "Uh...what?"

"You are! You think I'm built like a boy."

"I...I don't think you're built like a boy—"

"You do. That's pretty much what you're inferring by saying I would make a good stand-in for the guy."

Walt could feel the heat rising up his neck. How did they get on this topic?

"That's not what I'm inferring."

Vic sat up straighter, accentuating her very un-boy-like upper body. It wasn't necessary to remind him of what he already knew. "I mean, I know I can slouch like a teenager, but, really, I would have thought that you—"

Walt's eyes flashed to the door, which was thankfully closed. "Vic, ok. Enough. I don't think you're built like a boy and you know it."

Her grin seemed to spread from ear to ear as she tapped the outside of his left leg with the inside of her right one. "I _do_ know it."

He took a step closer. "I just meant that on the camera he didn't look as tall and broad-chested as I am."

She blinked a couple times. "No, he didn't." Her eyes flicked down to his chest and back up to his face, her expression suggesting she had first-hand knowledge of that fact.

He took another step closer. "Maybe we could get Ferg to be the stand-in."

"I think he might take offense that you're equating him to a teenager."

The corners of his mouth turned upwards. "Ok, maybe Branch could do it."

She laughed out loud. "I think Branch would actually see the request as a complement."

Her smile, and the gleam in her eye, seemed to have some kind of gravitational pull on him, as they'd had last night on Henry's couch, and he stepped closer again. Her smile slowly faded, although her eyes still shone as they held his.

"Ok, it's settled. We'll have Branch run through the various note-leaving options so we can determine which of them can be pulled off in under four minutes."

Vic placed her hand on Walt's phone.

"Want me to call hi—"

But before she could finish her question, Walt's mouth crashed down on hers.

He placed his hands on the desk at each side of her hips as he stepped in between her legs. She seemed surprised at first, but then squeezed his sides with her thighs, brought her hands to his chest and matched the pressure of his lips with her own.

After a moment he pulled back, to catch a breath and gauge her reaction. The heated look in her eyes had him pause only a moment before finding her lips again.

As her arms wound around his neck, his encircled her back to bring her closer. He felt her fingernails flare across his scalp. One of his hands went to her neck, his thumb grazing her check. The other went to her side, his thumb tracing the curve of her breast.

At a knock on the door, Walt immediately stepped back, and with a quick glance down, took a seat in his chair. His eyes flew up to Vic, who sat frozen on the edge of his desk. With a glance at her face, he put his hand on her knee.

"Don't turn around."

She gave him a quizzical look. He raised his right hand to the scruff along his jaw.

"You look like you've been kissed."

Her hand flew to her face, and then a moment later she hopped off the desk.

Walt cleared his throat as Vic walked over to the wall with all their notes and pictures. "Come in."

As Ferg walked in, Vic raised her cell phone to her ear. Her 'conversation' gave her a reason not to have to turn around while Ferg was in the room.

Ferg briefly looked over at Vic and then back at Walt. "I called the front office at Durant High. School gets out in an hour."

Walt heard Vic pretend to argue with someone on the other end of her call as he glanced down at his watch.

"Uh...thanks Ferg. Vic and I will head over there shortly. Could you call the school back and let them know we'll be stopping by the office. Don't tell them that we'll be coming specifically to see Andy. We'll tell them when we get there."

"Sure." With a final look over at Vic, Ferg turned and left the room.

Walt walked across the office and shut the door. He stayed with his back to Vic, taking a deep breath. After a moment he turned to find her looking back at him, her phone still in her hand, but now down by her side.

He really couldn't read her today, as she had regained her neutral expression.

Slowly he began to make his way toward her. When he was a couple feet in front of her he stopped. Her chin and the area around her lips still looked red and tender, and he reached out, placing his hand against her cheek. Her skin felt slightly warm against his cool palm, and she closed her eyes at the contact.

He flipped his hand over and ran the back of his fingers along her jaw, avoiding the areas that looked raw. "Sorry. I have foregone shaving this week. I had...other things occupying my mind, for some reason.

She opened her eyes, a small smile lighting her lips.

"I can't go back out there looking like this."

"No, you can't." He dropped his hand.

"I think I should head home, and then meet you over at the school."

He searched her face, still trying to gauge her reaction. "Ok. I'll...I'll go grab your jacket."

He left the room and made his way to Vic's desk. Ferg was on the phone and didn't look over in his direction. Walt pulled her jacket off the back of her chair, and then decided to also grab her laptop and backpack.

Closing the door behind him as he stepped into the office, he found Vic standing in the spot he'd left her in.

He walked over to her and handed her the jacket. While she slipped it on, he placed the laptop and power cord into her backpack and zipped it shut.

When she was done putting on her jacket, he handed over the bag.

She slipped it over her left shoulder. With her left hand on the strap, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Ok. I'll see you in a bit. I'll meet you in the school office in forty-five minutes."

"Ok."

"Ok."

They stood that way for another moment before Vic finally turned and headed for the private entrance to his office.

She paused with her hand on the doorknob. "You probably don't think I'm built like a boy now."

Walt blinked. "Oh, I already had evidence regarding that. There was never any doubt."

She flashed him a smile and then slipped out the door. He could already imagine the types of dreams he was going to have tonight.


	11. Chapter 11

**Guests are coming over in a few hours, and the house isn't ready, but this chapter was just screaming to be completed and posted. :)**

* * *

She had told Walt she'd meet him at the high school in forty-five minutes.

Forty-five minutes hadn't been enough time to completely calm her raw skin. It hadn't helped that she'd sat in her truck in her driveway for a full ten minutes re-living that kiss over and over instead of immediately heading in to her house to treat the irritated areas that had come into contact with his stubble. Standing in front of her mirror with only minutes to go before she had to leave to get to the school by the agreed-upon time, she'd decided the progress she'd made would have to do.

Forty-five minutes hadn't been enough time to wrap her mind around what had happened back at Walt's office. He had seemed focused on the case all morning, and at times even a little aloof, so the kiss had caught her by surprise, and it had taken her a moment to respond in kind. But it wasn't the kiss itself she was trying to work through. It was his reaction afterward. He hadn't apologized, or seemed full of regret or been burdened by guilt. Not only had he kissed her, he'd done it at work. And when they'd been interrupted by Ferg's knock on the door, he hadn't withdrawn into himself.

Forty-five minutes hadn't seemed like enough time to attempt to soothe her tender skin AND mull over what had happened AND show up at the school, but here she was, sitting in her truck in the school's parking lot, three minutes early. She had backed up into the spot next to Walt's Bronco. The engine was off, but she hadn't made a move to exit the vehicle. She stared at the front entrance, slightly reluctant to go in.

Forty-five minutes was enough time for the reality of what he'd done to sink in for Walt.

Forty-five minutes was enough time for him to start back-peddling. To start retreating. To once again put up his wall.

Forty-five minutes was enough time to crush her hopes regarding that kiss possibly being the 'next move' she'd been waiting for him to make.

So she was sitting in the driver's seat, hesitant to learn the truth. If she didn't go into that school and face him, her hopes could stay intact, at least for a little longer. If she didn't leave her truck, she didn't have to see regret in his eyes, or experience his renewed weariness, or feel like she was once again being kept at arm's length.

But despite her anxiety that Walt might now regret his actions, she had to admit that a little excitement was there as well. A hope that maybe they'd turned the corner, and that he was finally willing to start moving forward. After all, he'd been the one to initiate the kiss.

Vic picked up her phone from where she had laid it on the middle console, and again looked at the time. Despite the current state of things, she knew she had to go in. They were here because of the case. In fifteen minutes school would let out, and if she didn't join Walt in the office soon, he'd be left to talk to Andy on his own.

As her stomach clenched in a mix of apprehension and exhilaration, she wrapped her fingers around the handle, opened the door and began making her way across the parking lot.

She had been in the school one time before, a little over a year ago. She had stopped by the school when the person she had talked to from the front office had refused to give her information over the phone. She had known she probably could have avoided the in-person visit if she'd had Walt give the school a call, but she decided to head over to Durant High so they could start putting a face to the name. Once onsite, everyone had been extremely welcoming and helpful, and her future phone requests were responded to graciously and promptly.

When she stepped inside the school this afternoon, she realized that during that previous visit, it hadn't really occurred to her that this was the very school that Walt had gone to. He had walked these halls, and stood outside these lockers, and sat in these classrooms. The thought of him here, as a teenager, made her smile.

As she turned the corner, she slowed her pace. The wall of the front office was all windows, and she hoped to get a view of Walt before he saw her. She wanted to see if she could gauge his reaction by catching a look at him while he was still unaware of her presence. She didn't see him at first, her eyes scanning the room as she looked through the glass. But when the student at the counter turned and headed for the door, she saw Walt sitting on the bench against the far wall, hat in hand.

Vic stopped, and took him in for a moment.

When she'd first moved to Durant and started at the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department, both Sean and her mother had asked her what the sheriff was like. She had given them vague descriptions. Just enough to satisfy their curiosity. She'd described him as tall, and a man of few words, and extremely competent, and old-school in his ways. She had definitely not painted the full picture.

She didn't tell them that his eyes were that kind of blue that darkened and lightened given his mood, and when focused on hers, could completely pull her in. She didn't tell them that she learned to read his tells, and where everyone saw the unflappable lawman, she could see his surprise, and his pain, and his concern, and his frustration and his moments of joy. She didn't tell them about his sense of humor. Or his unwillingness to burden anyone with his problems. Or his often unshakeable stubbornness. Or his thirst for fairness and justice that drove him to find the truth and right the wrongs, even if it led to personal sacrifices and obsessive tendencies. She didn't tell them that when he opened up to her, telling her things she suspected he had shared with few others, she felt connected to him in a way she hadn't felt with anyone else.

As she watched him through the window of the front office, her attraction to him, and her awe of him, and her frustration with him all swelled within her. He was fidgeting, his right hand lifting to smooth down his hair, and his left leg bouncing slightly. A yearbook rested on the bench beside him. Lost in his thoughts, he seemed oblivious to what was actually going on around him. She watched as he raised his eyes to the clock on the wall and then dropped his gaze. Again her stomach clenched in anticipation. Pulling her shoulders back and taking a deep breath, Vic proceeded to the entrance.

The moment she appeared in the doorway, Walt stood, his eyes locking on hers as his hands fell to his side.

"Deputy Moretti. It's good to see you again."

Vic reluctantly pulled her gaze from his and looked over at Nancy, the front office clerk. She was greeted by a smile.

"Hi Nancy."

Nancy nodded at one of the closed doors. "As I told Sheriff Longmire, Vice Principal Whitcomb is talking to someone in his office right now, but will be out shortly. He is aware that the two of you would be stopping by."

"Ok. Thanks."

The phone on the office clerk's desk rang. "Excuse me a moment. I need to answer this." As Nancy picked up the handset, Vic looked over at Walt.

She took a couple steps toward him. "You been here long?"

Walt stared back at her for a moment. "Just a few minutes."

He bent down to pick up the yearbook and then took a couple steps back, as if to give her space on the bench, but neither sat down.

Vic looked out the window into the hallway. "When was the last time you were here?"

"At the school, or in this office?"

She turned back to look at him. "Either."

"Henry and I came to a football game a couple of weeks ago."

She arched an eyebrow. "Do you go to a lot of home games?"

"At least one or two each season."

"I...I didn't realize you attended Durant games. Well, obviously you said that you'd seen Tuck play during his high school days, but I thought that was because you were friends with his family. And clearly you're an alumnus, and it would make sense to watch your team continue to play. And with Sheriff being an elected position, attending school football games would help you keep ties to the community..." Inside she cringed. Why was she rambling?

He blinked. "Yes." And then the sides of his mouth turned upwards. "Plus I just like watching a good game."

Her head bowed slightly. "Right. Of course."

"You ever been to a game?"

She looked up. "Oh. Uh...no."

"Well, we should remedy that. You've been missing out."

She felt the knot in her stomach start to loosen slightly, and she tried to keep her smile in check. "Yes, we should."

She saw Walt stand up straighter and look past her shoulder, and she turned to see a student leaving the vice principal's office. A moment later, the man himself appeared in the doorway.

He stepped forward, extending his hand. "Walt. Good to see you."

"Charlie." Walt shifted the yearbook to the hand holding his hat, and reached out. He then looked over at Vic. "This is Deputy Moretti."

"Deputy. Charlie Whitcomb." Again Charlie extended his hand.

She responded with a firm grip of her own. "You can call me Vic."

"You didn't grow up here in Durant, did you? I don't recognize you as one of our former students."

"No. Philadelphia."

He looked over at Walt. "Have you given Vic a tour of your old stomping ground?" Charlie looked back at Vic. "I was a young teacher here when Walt graced these halls as a student."

With a sideways glance at Walt, she grinned. "I've been hearing about Walt's high school escapades recently. Of course, not from him. As you probably know, he's not one to re-live his glory days, or brag about...anything. I wouldn't have known he even played football in high school or college if someone else hadn't told me."

"That's sounds like Walt. Ever humble."

Vic's smile grew as she noted Walt's slight embarrassment with the current conversation.

"You'll have to catch me up on more stories about Walt, but we've actually come to talk to one of your students, and with class about to get out for the day—"

"Oh, yes. Of course. Please step inside my office."

Vic and Walt followed him in, and stood near the desk as he closed the door behind them.

"Which student are you here to talk to?"

Walt gripped the brim of his hat. "Andy Bowman. He's a senior."

Charlie stood silent for a moment. "Can I ask why you need to talk to Andy?"

Walt shifted his stance. "I'm afraid we can't go into any details with you. We just have some clarifying questions we need to ask him."

"So he's not in any trouble?"

"Again, I can't say any more than that."

Charlie looked between them. "I'll bring Andy back here, and the two of you can talk to him in the privacy of my office. It will make less of a scene that way."

Walt glanced over at Vic before turning back to Charlie. "That works. Thanks."

Charlie looked up at the clock near the door. "The bell will ring in a few minutes. I'll start heading over to his classroom."

Vic stared at the door, which Charlie left open when he exited, and listened to the end-of-day activity coming from the office just outside. She saw Walt place the yearbook and his hat down on the desk, and lean against it. She leaned back as well, copying his stance, both hands gripping the edge.

Vic knew that with the door open, Walt wasn't going to bring up what had happened between them earlier. She didn't even know if he would have brought it up had the door been closed.

With her eyes still on the doorway, she swallowed. "Did Ferg say anything about me leaving early?"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Walt blink. A few more moments passed and then Walt's eyes dropped to his boots. "He asked where you were when he didn't see you re-appear from my office."

Her grip on the desk tightened. "What did you tell him?"

Another pause. "I told him you were over at Ace Hardware, running the aisles, trying to time how long it would take to steal duct tape and leave an apology post-it note." He glanced over at her. "And that you were the one to do it because you were the best man for the job."

Vic stared at him, and then her stomach muscles relaxed and she burst out in laughter as she remembered their conversation just before their kiss. She had not been expecting anything even remotely humorous to come from him in that moment, and was pleased to see a matching smile erupt on his face.

"Ferg didn't even notice I was gone, did he?"

"Nope."

"Too busy being a good deputy and staying focused on the tasks at hand?"

"Yep."

His gaze dropped to her chin, and he briefly scanned her face, before raising his eyes back to hers. "You look—"

They heard someone clear his throat, and Vic watched Walt push himself off the desk before she turned to see Vice Principal Whitcomb in the doorway with Andy at his side.

Charlie took a couple steps into the room and then turned toward Andy. "Andy, since you're eighteen, it's up to you whether you'd like me to stay. Are you ok talking to Sheriff Longmire and Deputy Moretti on your own?"

Andy looked between Walt and Vic. "I'm ok."

Charlie turned back to Walt and Vic. "If you need me, just step out and talk to Nancy and she'll get ahold of me."

Walt nodded.

Charlie exited, closing the door behind him. Vic turned toward Andy as Walt walked to the other side of the desk and brought the chair around to join the other two chairs on the side they were on.

Vic watched Andy closely as his eyes followed Walt's movements. Adjusting the grip on the strap of his backpack, he silently shifted his gaze to her. She gestured toward one of the chairs. "Take a seat Andy."

Andy hesitated, and then sank into the chair and placed his bag on the floor, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Andy, I'm not sure if you've met Sheriff Longmire before."

His eyes traveled to Walt, and then he shook his head. "No."

"Sheriff Longmire is a former Durant High student. Even played a little football while he went here."

"I've seen his picture in the display case out in the hallway."

Vic looked over at Walt who avoided eye contact. "Really?" She made a mental note to get a look at that picture.

"Yeah. His team won the championship."

Walt ignored her raised eyebrows as he leaned forward in his chair, his hands resting on his thighs. "Do you like football, Andy?"

Andy shrugged. "It's ok."

"Ever play?"

"No."

"I was at the game two weeks back when we played Lander Valley. Were you at the game?"

Andy shook his head.

"Did you ever go to games when Tuck Jensen played here a few years back? He was a good player."

Andy shrugged. "I'm not much of a fan."

"The whole school gets into football. Isn't it kind of unavoidable?"

"The school makes too big a deal about it. They're not even that good."

Walt's left eyebrow rose. "But you used to be a fan of the team."

A look of confusion filled Andy's eyes.

Walt reached over and picked up the yearbook from the desk. Flipping to the picture of the football team, he handed the book to Andy.

"You were a team manager your freshman year."

Andy looked down at the page in front of him, but said nothing.

"Why weren't you in the team photo that day?"

Andy continued to stare at the picture without looking up. "I was home...sick."

"Why were you a manager for the team if football isn't your thing?"

He looked up, handing the book back to Walt. "Like you said, football is a big deal around here. It seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"But you weren't a team manager your sophomore year, or any other year. Why is that?"

"I wasn't interested in it anymore."

"Your friends didn't try to convince you to stay involved?"

"My friends?"

"The rest of the team."

"We weren't really friends."

Vic shifted in her seat. "Were they assholes? I've known a few asshole football players in my day."

Andy's eyes flicked over to hers. "Some of them."

She caught Walt's eye and then leaned in. "Was Tuck Jensen one of the assholes? He seems like the kind of kid where everything comes too easy to him and takes for granted what he has."

"He wasn't the worst."

"Oh yeah? Who were some of the biggest assholes?"

Andy leaned back in his chair. "It doesn't matter. They don't go here anymore."

Walt placed the yearbook back on the desk. "Did you get involved with any other school activities?"

"No."

"Had enough with school spirit?"

He shrugged again.

"How did you keep busy outside of classes and homework?"

Andy blinked. "I got a job."

"Where?"

"Cressida Garden Center."

"On Main Street?"

Andy nodded.

"What kind of work did you do for them?"

"I mainly mowed lawns. Sometimes I did inventory in the store."

"So why'd you start working at Exxon?"

"Cressida's mostly a summer job. I wanted something year-round."

"How do you like working at the gas station?"

"It's ok."

"I bet you didn't expect to be in the midst of a robbery two weeks in."

Andy's eyes drifted to his hands in his lap. "No."

"Have you been back to work yet?"

He shook his head.

"When's your next shift?"

"Tonight."

"You going to be ok going back?"

Andy scratched the side of his head. "I guess."

"You're pretty lucky, Andy. The other robbery victims weren't so lucky. A few suffered some significant injuries."

His eyes still downcast, Andy's shoulders slumped. "I heard."

"Why do you think that is?"

Andy looked up.

"Why do you think you walked away injury-free?"

"I...I don't know."

"Do you think the guy recognized you?"

Glancing at the window, Andy gave a non-committal shrug.

"Did you recognize him?"

His eyes darted back to Walt. "No...I...I didn't really see him."

Walt rubbed the side of his jaw with the back of his hand. "We think you did. See him."

Andy didn't respond, but kept his eyes trained on Walt.

"You told Deputy Moretti that the guy approached you from behind. You said that he had a mask, but that you saw little else."

Silence.

"But I've been to the store, Andy. I saw how the register is positioned, and how the chime signals when someone enters."

Andy's chin dropped toward his chest.

"You're brand new to the job, and I think you would pay attention to every single patron who entered the store. So I think you saw the guy enter."

Walt let his words linger in the air. After several moments had passed, Andy brought his hand up to cup the back of his neck.

"He said my name."

Vic arched an eyebrow as she looked over at Walt, but Walt waited for him to continue.

Andy finally looked up. "He entered the store with a mask on, and a gun pointed at my face, and yelled 'Open the register and then get down on the fu..." His eyes flicked over to Vic. "Get down on the f-ing ground, Andy.'"

Andy's eyes again dropped to his hands. "And so I did exactly what he said."

Vic's brow furrowed. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

He raised his chin to look at her. "Because...because he also said he knew where I live. I...I didn't know if telling you...I didn't want him to come find me if I said too much. It's...it's why I didn't call it in right away."

"Did you recognize his voice?"

Andy shook his head.

"Did you recognize anything about him?"

Again a head shake.

Crossing her arms, she looked at him intently. "You're not holding something back, are you Andy?"

Another shake of the head.

Vic stood, resting her hands at her hips. "We've had a lot of people lying to us this week. Holding back the truth, and making our work a hell of a lot more difficult. Are you doing that Andy?"

Andy looked up at her. "No."

"You were a manager when two of the other victims, Kyle Walton and Tuck Jensen, were both on the football team. Was the third victim, Dylan Matthews, involved with the team?"

Andy shook his head. "No. Or at least not when I was."

"Can you think of a way the four of you are connected?"

Andy looked between her and Walt. "No."

"Did you mow the lawns of Kyle, Dylan, or Tuck's families when you worked at Cressida?"

"I don't think so."

"Was there anyone you worked with who may have mowed their lawns?"

"You...you'll have to check with someone at the store to see if those families are even customers."

Walt stood, picked up his hat and leaned against the corner of the desk. "Anything else you can think of, Andy? Anything that might help us track this guy down, or figure out why he did what he did?"

"Uh...not that I can think of."

Walt nodded. "Ok."

Andy looked between them, trying to gauge if the conversation was done.

Walt stood and held out his hand. "Thanks for answering our questions."

Standing, Andy took Walt's hand. "Sure." He bent down and lifted his backpack from the floor.

Walt rotated his hat in his hands. "Where are you going to college next year, Andy?"

Andy placed the backpack on his right shoulder. "I don't know yet. I'm still deciding where to apply."

"You a good student?"

"Yeah."

"Looking at four-year colleges?"

"Yeah."

"In Wyoming, or out of state?"

"Both. Probably out of state."

"I went out of state."

"I know. USC. The school's rather proud they sent one of their own to play for the Trojans."

Walt arched an eyebrow in his direction. "I thought you didn't really follow football."

He gave a shrug. "Like you said, whether you like it or not, football is a big deal around here."

XX

Vic took a step back as two female students ran past, all giggles and streaming hair. She wondered if she'd ever appeared that care-free at their age.

Walt was still in the office talking to Charlie, but she had stepped into the hallway to make a call.

With her phone at her ear, she read the poster taped to the wall in front of her, which was advertising the home football game next Friday against Douglas High School.

"Hey, Vic."

"Hey, Branch. Where are you right now?"

"On my way back to the station."

"Could you stop by Cressida Garden Center on Main Street and find out if any of our robbery victims' families had or have their lawns mowed by them? And can you get a list of all their current or previous employees?"

"Who or what am I looking for?"

"Not sure if Cressida is even relevant to the case, but Andy Bowman worked there for a few summers. We just finished talking to Andy and he admitted that the guy who robbed the Exxon gas station called him by name and said that he knew where he lived. We're trying to figure out who might be connected to Andy, so Cressida is one of the places we want to look into."

"Sure. I'll let you know what I learn."

"Thanks."

She hung up, her focus returning to the poster.

"Who were you talking to?"

She jumped slightly, not having noticed Walt approach her side.

"Branch. He's heading over to Cressida Garden Center to get a list of their lawn care customers, and their employees."

She looked up to see Walt looking at the poster. She ran her hand along her ponytail. "Do you...do you maybe want—"

"Walt."

They both turned to see the vice principal standing in the doorway to the front office.

"Here's the list of individuals who have access to our system."

Walt walked across the hallway and took the paper from him. "Are any of them students?"

"No. Only administrative staff and teachers have access."

Walt glanced down at the list and then looked back up. "Thanks."

"Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"You've been very helpful today, Charlie. Thank you."

Charlie looked over at Vic. "It was nice meeting you, Vic."

"You too Charlie."

"Stop by anytime if you want to hear any stories about your boss."

Vic grinned. "I will definitely take you up on that offer."

Ignoring the two of them, Walt started walking down the wall. "Bye, Charlie."

"Bye." Vic gave a quick wave and then took off after him.

When they reached the front door to the school, she came to a halt, grabbing his sleeve. "Oh wait."

Without releasing his arm, she tugged on his shirt to encourage him to follow her. "I forgot something.

Walt followed her back down the hallway where she stopped in front of the display case. Walt groaned when he realized what she had come back to do.

"I couldn't leave without getting a look at the picture Andy mentioned."

She looked through the various photographs and awards on display until she found what she was in search of. It turned out to be pictures. Plural. A team photo, from their 1980 championship game, was on the left. To the right were two pictures of Walt and two of Henry, and captions mentioning where the co-captains had each gone on to play in college. The second picture of Walt was of him in his USC uniform.

She looked up at Walt, who was looking down the hall.

She took out her phone and opened the camera app. At the sound of the picture taking Walt turned toward here.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

Walt paused. "If I see that picture hanging from any bulletin board or as anyone's screensaver..."

She smiled up at him innocently. "No clue what you're talking about."

XX

"Why did Charlie give you a list of the individuals with access to the school's computer system?"

Walt looked over at Vic as the two made their way across the school parking lot.

"I was discussing with him who might have access to Andy's home address. The problem is, this town is small enough that many people likely know where Andy lives, even if they don't have access to his student information."

Vic nodded as they walked single-file between two cars. She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "I've been thinking about whether the guy who robbed the Exxon actually knows Andy."

Walt halted, mid-stride. "He did call Andy by name and tell him he knows where he lives."

Vic turned around to face him, walking backwards. "He said he knows where he lives, but didn't state where he lives. And Andy's uniform shirt has his name on it. The guy could have just read it before calling him by name."

Walt continued walking. "Doesn't this go against our theory that the guy who robbed the stores hit each store because of the specific person at the register?"

"I'm just trying to find a reason for Andy not being injured like the rest. If the robberies were all attacks...revenge attacks, it doesn't make sense why the guy didn't harm Andy. Maybe he expected someone else to be behind the counter at Exxon that morning. Andy was relatively new to working there and maybe didn't have an established schedule yet like the other victims."

Vic flipped around just before arriving at their two trucks.

Walt joined her in the space between the two vehicles, digging into his pocket for his keys. He scratched the back of his neck. "What if Andy _was_ the intended target, and the guy chose that date because Andy finally had a job at a place where he worked the register? He was working at Cressida Garden Center all summer long. It would have been hard to hold him up, under the guise of robbing a store, while he was mowing somebody's lawn."

"Why wait for Andy to get a job as a cashier, but then leave him uninjured if the purpose was revenge?"

"We're assuming the purpose of the assaults is revenge. It may not be the case. Or not the case in all the robberies, at least."

Vic turned her key in the lock of her driver-side door. "If this guy is assaulting these cashiers as an elaborate game...that's messed up shit."

Walt bowed his head. "Yep."

She turned and stared at the brim of his hat. "Hey Walt. The thing I said earlier about Tuck. About him being an asshole. I didn't mean it. I was just trying to get Andy to open up."

He looked up. "I know."

He held her gaze for a moment and then turned toward the Bronco.

Watching him unlock the door to his truck, she thought back to that home game poster up on the wall outside the front office, and the possibility of attending a game with him. She thought about asking Walt to go for a burger at the Pony that evening. She thought about that kiss. She couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. "You done for the day, or are you heading back to the office?"

"I'll radio Ruby to check in, but will likely head home." He looked over at her as he opened his door. "You should head home too. We'll be putting in hours tomorrow, on our day off, so you should call it a day and rest up." He lowered himself into the driver's seat.

Vic knew she was tired, but she felt restless. She wondered what he'd be doing that night. She wondered if he was wondering the same about her.

She took a step toward him. "Walt?"

He leaned out his open door, his gaze expectant. God, she wanted him to make the next move.

"Uh...what time are we heading up to Sheridan?"

He held her gaze. "Eleven? I can pick you up."

She turned toward her truck and exhaled. "Ok."

XX

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

Leaping from her truck, she ran for the entrance.

_Shit.  
_  
She arrived at the door just as the 'Closed' sign was being flipped. Irv looked at her from the other side of the glass.

Gripping the handle, she tested whether the door had already been locked. It didn't budge. "What the hell, Irv! There's two minutes left before your official close time."

Irv looked at her. "I'm closing. It's been dead the last thirty minutes, and I have somewhere to be."

"Come on. Please. It's urgent."

"Is this an official Sheriff's department matter?"

"Uh..." She could easily lie right now. "No. But it's important."

Irv raised an eyebrow.

"Plus I know exactly what I want and where it is. I'll be in and out. I swear." Her eyebrows both slanted to further plead her case. "Please."

Running his hand along his beard, he looked back at Vic.

"Alright. You have five minutes." He unlocked the door and stepped back to allow her to enter.

Relief flooded through her. "Thanks Irv. I really appreciate it."

"Five minutes." Despite the harshness of his statement, he smiled. She grinned in return, and then turned on her heels and headed for the first aisle.

XX

She sat in her truck, the engine cut, and her thudding heartbeat the only sound filling her ears. Both hands gripped the steering wheel.

What was she doing parked outside his cabin? Walt hadn't invited her over. She had stood near him in the space between their two vehicles in the parking lot of the school, just hours ago, and he hadn't asked her about her evening plans, no matter how much she'd wished he would. He hadn't tried to make plans with her, for tonight, or any future date.

Doubt began to creep in. What if they weren't on the same page? What if that kiss hadn't been his next move? What if he was not waiting for her to initiate next, but instead didn't want to pursue anything, or at least wasn't ready to? They hadn't talked about that kiss. What if it hadn't actually meant anything to him other than just being a momentary slip? What if he was attracted to her, but didn't want anything more? What if he hadn't changed his mind about the possibility of their being together?

The courage she'd felt back at her house as she resolutely grabbed her keys and charged toward her truck drained from her body. What was she doing?

She should turn around. Back her truck up and head home. He wouldn't even know she'd been here, and she could save face. She'd see him tomorrow, when they headed up to Sheridan to talk to Tyler's mother. She could regroup, and take some time to better read the situation before making the next move. Or maybe she needed to wait for him to make the next move.

She thought about the car keys she'd just stuffed in her coat pocket. She could leave. She _should_ leave. Now. But somewhere inside was the hope that there was something there, between them. Something that just needed to be helped along. She was here because she had come to the conclusion that maybe he didn't know how to make the next move. Lizzie aside, Walt hadn't done any dating for decades, and she'd decided he might just need a nudge in the right direction. She'd driven over to give him that nudge.

She took a deep breath, and then opened her driver-side door. She could do this. It was just a nudge, right?

She stepped out and then turned to reach into the vehicle, pulling out the two bags. Her stomach in knots, she started the short walk toward his porch. When she reached the front door she took another deep breath. She could hear faint music coming from inside, but with the blinds closed she couldn't see in.

She moved the smaller bag to her other arm, knocked and then took a step back.

She waited, her stomach muscles tensing. Had he heard her knock with the music playing? Should she knock again?

Just then the front door swung open, and she found herself looking through the screen door at him. She noticed the flicker of surprise that crossed his eyes.

"Vic."

"I..." All preparation she'd done in regards to her opening words flew from her thoughts. She shifted her stance, the weight of the bags in her arms reminding her why she was here.

"We didn't really get a chance to talk earlier...about...what happened back at the office. So I...I thought maybe I'd stop by."

He stared silently back at her. She heard the soft sounds of a female singer she didn't recognize in the background.

"I don't know...I thought...I thought that kiss was your next move, and that maybe you were waiting for my response. And I didn't say or do...anything...back at the school, so I thought..." She trailed off. His expression was unreadable and a slight panic flared within her. Maybe she'd read the situation incorrectly, and she almost turned on her heels and fled, but then she took a closer look at his face. He was clean-shaven, and it looked like he'd had his hair cut as well. That flicker of hope swelled in her chest.

"I...um...I wanted to come over and—"

And then she heard it. The clatter of dishes from behind him. The unmistakable sound of someone else in the house. Her eyes flew past his shoulder, to the entrance to the kitchen. Walt turned slightly toward the sound, confirming he'd heard it as well.

Did he have plans with his daughter that evening? "I didn't know..."

Her sentence trailed off as her eyes moved to the couch, and landed on the open wine bottle on the coffee table, and the two partially filled glasses next to it.

She thought Cady was a beer drinker like her dad, but of course, she didn't know Cady that well to know all her drink preferences. But she did know Walt's.

She took a step backwards, and then slowly looked over her right shoulder. In the dark, and with her focus on the cabin, she hadn't looked too closely at Walt's truck when she'd arrived. Now, from her position on the porch, and with the light coming from the cabin, she could just make out a small vehicle parked on the other side of the Bronco. The vehicle was not Cady's jeep.

"Fuck."

She thought she'd only whispered the expletive, but turned at the sound of the screen door opening and Walt stepping into the doorway, a look of concern in his eyes.

"Vic..."

She looked up at him and then took another step back.

"Walt?" A woman's voice called out, cutting through the music. And then the woman appeared behind him. "I remembered where everything went in your cabinets from last time I was here, but couldn't figure out where this—" She stopped, her eyes landing on Vic. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize someone was here."

That made two of them.

The woman stared at her for a moment and then stepped forward. "You must be Vic!" How did this woman know her name? The woman smiled. "Your ears must be burning. We were just talking about you."

How did this stranger know who she was? This stranger with the gorgeous, thick brown hair, and kind eyes, and welcoming smile. This stranger who wasn't wearing a wedding ring, and who liked wine, and who had been at the cabin more than once and who was one of the select few who had seen the inside of Walt's kitchen cabinets. This stranger who Walt had shaved and gotten a haircut for. This stranger who had that kind of natural beauty that didn't require makeup, and who stood, looking comfortable in Walt's cabin in her bare feet, and who was closer in age to him than she would ever be.

Vic finally found her voice as she took another step backwards. "I didn't realize you had company. I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll...I'll go."

She turned and started walking toward the steps when she heard Walt call out.

"Wait. Vic."

But she didn't want to wait. That was a lie. She wanted to turn around and have him clear things up for her, but something kept her feet moving in the other direction.

"Vic." This time it was the woman who called out. "Please stay. I was just about to leave."

Vic paused at the top of the stairs but didn't turn. A moment later the woman appeared beside her, shoes on, and a coat and purse in her hands.

"I have early morning plans, so I need to get home and was about to leave, so you're not interrupting anything. It was nice meeting you." The woman looked over her shoulder. "Thanks for dinner, Walt."

She turned back to Vic. "Please don't leave on my account."

And with that, Vic watched the woman head down the stairs and toward her car.

She stood with her back to Walt, watching the red tail lights of the vehicle getting smaller and then disappearing from sight.

"Vic."

Just forty-five minutes ago, she had been sitting on her couch, formulating her plan to come over here. She had thought that he might be similarly sitting on his couch, contemplating what to do, and her arrival would be all that was needed to nudge them forward.

Forty-five minutes ago she'd been re-visiting all the things that had occurred between them that week, and had been optimistic regarding their recent progress.

Forty-five minutes...

"Vic."

His voice was close. He must have stepped behind her without her realizing.

"You were right. That was me finally making the next move."

* * *

**As I was finishing up this chapter, I realized I hadn't written a scene on Walt's porch since my final chapter of my story **_**On Your Porch**_**. It was nice to come back! And if Walt can keep Vic from leaving, there just might be another scene on the porch when the next chapter picks up. **

**Thanks for reading.**


	12. Chapter 12

She hadn't looked back at him since declaring she was leaving, and even though she still stood at the top of his porch steps, with her face hidden in the shadows she didn't really seem completely there.

"Vic. Come inside."

She didn't move, or turn around.

"You must be cold. I've got a fire going. Come in."

"I'm fine. You're the one without a coat on." She glanced down at his feet. He was standing on the porch in only his socks. "Or boots."

He stepped forward so that they both stood at the top step, although at opposite ends.

"I should go." She adjusted the bags in her arms as she looked out at her truck, but made no move to leave.

"Vic."

Her eyes dropped.

He decided to try again. "Let's go in and talk."

Without a word, Vic sat down on the top step, placing the grocery bags at her feet. Walt looked down at the top of her head as she slouched forward, her forearms resting on her thighs. He knew he needed to take what she was offering. He sat down, keeping some space between them.

She looked both tired and on edge, as if the week had been pulling her in two directions.

Clearing his throat, he ran both hands along his thighs.

"Theresa..."

He stopped. What should he say about Theresa?

He must have let his silence go on too long, because she half-turned toward him. "Theresa?"

"The woman who just left. Theresa Coleman."

Vic's brow furrowed. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Last Saturday when you..." Looking down at the wooden board at his feet, he ran his hands across his thighs again. "When Cady came over and you were in...my bedroom."

"You mean your closet?"

The corners of his mouth lifted but when he looked up, her face remained neutral. He would have welcomed an eye roll.

"When I played the messages on my answering machine that morning, the first one was from Theresa. You asked me who she was later, as we were making breakfast."

Vic pursed her lips in thought. "You said she was a family friend."

Walt nodded.

"And she called you at the station before you got in on Monday. Ruby relayed the message to you when you came in that morning."

"She was calling to arrange our dinner tonight."

Walt glanced over at Vic again, but she was still looking out into the distance. "I thought you were engrossed in something at your desk when Ruby was giving me my messages on Monday."

Vic shrugged. "I was multi-tasking."

She continued to look out into the darkness. "What does 'family friend' mean?"

Walt ran his hand through his hair. "Theresa...Theresa and Martha met during chemo treatment at the hospital in Denver."

"Theresa had cancer too?"

"Yes. It's been in remission for about four years."

He watched her as she gripped the edge of the step with both hands. He knew he had to stop openly staring at her, she was bound to let him have it any moment now, but he couldn't help it.

"When Theresa went into remission, she still joined Martha at the hospital for her treatments, and would come to the house to visit."

"So she lives around here?"

"Down in Casper."

Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her coat, Vic leaned the back of her shoulder against the railing to her right, but continued to look out in front of her.

"When Martha passed away, Theresa used to drive up to Durant to check up on me. Those early months I was..."

He paused.

"She met Cady early on, and the two bonded over their exasperation with my refusal to accept either of their help. I eventually gave in and Theresa and I started doing these dinners. Cady and Theresa get together more often."

"Why does she know who I am and I know nothing about her?"

"You and I really don't talk about Martha much—"

"You mean _you_ don't talk to me about Martha much."

That was true. He didn't. "It was too difficult...talking about Martha at first. I wanted to keep things separate...to keep others from that pain...and then...and then it was just too confusing...talking to you about my wife."

"Confusing? Why?"

"Because...you confused me."

"I confused you?"

"How I felt about you confused me."

Vic leaned forward on her forearms again, interlacing her fingers. "But you can talk to Theresa about Martha?"

"She knew Martha. The fact that we both knew Martha is what our relationship is built on."

"And you talk to Theresa about me?"

He arched an eyebrow. "_Talk_ may not be the right world. She's kind of _pulled_ information about you from me."

His hand went to the back of his neck.

"It started with her asking about the people I work with, and the cases I work on. So you first came up that way. Theresa started to read into things before I'd even admitted to myself there was anything to really read into. And then tonight—"

'"So she knows what happened between us last weekend?"

He turned his head toward her, and found her looking at him. "No." He held her eyes. "She just noticed my agitation when we talked on the phone earlier this week, and apparently I was distracted tonight, during dinner. She brought you up, and I just..."

He paused again.

"You just?"

"I just told her that you and I were trying to figure things out."

Staring at her clasped hands, Vic lapsed into silence. He sat, and waited.

"It's strange. I guess I thought that since I know Cady, Henry and Lucian, I knew the people who are most important to you. I don't know why I didn't think there would be others like AJ and Theresa."

"I wasn't keeping them from you. They just weren't part of our context...before."

She looked over at him, and then dropped her hands, hugging her legs.

Wanting to keep her talking, he nodded at the brown paper bags at her feet. "What's in the bags?"

She glanced down at them. "Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing."

"It's stupid."

"I'm sure it's not."

She stared at the bags for a moment. "I...I should get going." She suddenly picked up both bags and stood.

Walt stood as well. "You don't need to go."

"I already ruined your evening."

"You didn't."

"I did. I interrupted."

"You didn't interrupt. Theresa was getting ready to head back to Casper."

He walked across the porch and opened the screen door, before looking back at Vic. "Come inside. I'm guessing some of the items you have in those bags need to be refrigerated. I think I can make a little room in my fridge." He chuckled, knowing that she knew how much free space his fridge actually had. "And you can warm up a bit before you go."

Vic bit down on her lip, and then without a word, entered the cabin, with Walt stepping in behind her. They stood just inside the door, both looking around the room.

Walt was keenly aware that her presence in the cabin felt very different than on both of her previous visits. Her presence tonight wasn't about protecting her, or giving him the chance to change his clothes before they headed out. She was in his cabin because he wanted her there with him. He wanted...her. Standing next to her in the doorway, he acknowledged just how much he wanted her. It was a big step for him. Acknowledging what he'd been denying for so long.

"Let me take your coat."

She hesitated and then silently placed the bags down on the nearby chair and unzipped her coat as he shut the door behind them. After removing it she turned and handed it to him.

Walt held her eyes for a moment and then hung the coat up on one of the hooks on the wall.

When he turned around he found Vic looking at him. She dropped her eyes and focused her attention on taking off her boots. Once she'd removed them she straightened, tucking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

He ran his hand along the hair at the back of his neck. "Let's...uh...let's get those items you brought in the fridge."

He watched as she picked up the bags and made her way into the kitchen, and then followed her in. He entered to find her staring down at the table.

"She made you a pie."

"What?" He stepped to her side and then saw the apple pie Theresa had brought. "Oh. Yes. Do you want some?"

"Uh...no. Thanks." She continued to looked down at the pie. "Did you make dinner or did she?"

He wondered if Vic truly wanted to know if he had cooked their meal, or if her question was about something else entirely. "I...uh...I host, and provide the beverages. She does most of the cooking. I think she thinks dinner won't happen if too many variables are left up to me. That if she has the dinner at her house, I'll find a reason to cancel. Or if I'm in charge of the food, I'll get too busy and not have anything prepared." He rubbed his ear, his eyebrow slanting up. "Or maybe Martha warned her about my cooking."

Vic placed the bags on the table. "I didn't bring anything as exciting as a homemade pie."

He looked over at her and watched as she picked up the smaller of the two bags.

"I...uh. I thought I'd replace your bottle of whiskey." She pulled out a bottle of the exact brand they had drunk the previous Friday night.

He smiled. "You didn't need to do that."

He watched her walk over to the shelf and place the bottle next to the almost empty original bottle.

When she returned to his side, she reached into the other bag and then paused. After a moment she pulled out a package.

"I...I also picked up some coffee grounds. So...so you don't run out again. Actually..." She reached back in the bag. "I got you two."

The corners of his mouth lifted again. "We wouldn't want that. We know what happens when I don't have coffee in the house."

Vic looked up. "So you're admitting you were to blame...or your lack of coffee was to blame..." Something danced in her eyes and in the smirk that graced her lips.

"I thought we decided Henry was to blame."

Vic snorted. "Right. Henry."

Walt stepped forward and then wrapped a hand around each bag of coffee she was holding. "Thanks."

After a moment she released her hold on the coffee. He walked over to the cabinet and placed the packages on one of the shelves as he heard her reach back into the bag.

When he returned to her side she was holding a carton of eggs and a package of bacon. She pulled open the door to the fridge and placed the items inside. He cringed at the sight of the near-empty shelves. "Did you bring over this food because you pitied me for how empty my refrigerator is?"

She grinned as she reached back in the bag, pulling out a carton of milk and a package of cheese. "I kind of ruined our breakfast on Saturday morning. I wanted to make up for it."

Walt reached down and took the items from her and then placed them on the shelf next to the eggs and bacon. "I think I was the one who ruined breakfast."

She looked up at him and then turned back toward the table. "Maybe we both played a part. Either way, I thought breakfast needed a do-over." She pulled out a plastic jug of orange juice, a bottle of maple syrup and a package of butter and then handed them to him to put away, before reaching back into the bag and pulling out a loaf of bread.

With his eyes on her, Walt closed the refrigerator door. He stepped closer to her. "All of this is much better than pie."

She looked up at him and blinked, and then a small grin appeared.

He shifted his stance. "So when were you thinking of doing this breakfast do-ov—"

The phone rang and they both jumped. Vic laughed as she ran her hand through her hair. Walt glanced over at his desk.

She lightly tapped his arm. "You should take it. I'll finish putting away the remaining items."

With a quick glance at Vic, he walked across the room, picked up the phone, and, recognizing the number of the caller, answered it. "Hey, Punk."

"Guess who just called me."

He walked over to the couch and took a seat at the far end. "Who?" But as the word came out of his mouth he already knew the answer.

"Theresa."

"She left my place a little while ago." He looked over at the kitchen. Vic was standing on her toes to put a box of cereal away.

"I know. She told me. I'm glad you found time to have dinner."

"Did you get a chance to catch up?" As Vic turned toward him, her eyebrow lifted, letting him know that he'd been caught staring. His eyes darted over to the fireplace.

"We did. And know what she told me?"

Walt paused, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Would Theresa have mentioned that Vic had stopped by? Would she have shared with Cady any part of their conversation from earlier that evening? The last thing he needed right now was Theresa and his daughter in cahoots.

"She said you might not be able to do breakfast tomorrow."

He had told Theresa about his Saturday morning plans with Cady. His eyes flew back to Vic who was folding up the paper bags.

"She did?"

'"Yeah, she said you need to go up to Sheridan tomorrow morning, for the case."

He had told Theresa about their pending interview with Tyler's mother. The interview that both he and Theresa knew was not until noon. Maybe she wasn't in cahoots with Cady, but it looked like Theresa might be indirectly playing matchmaker.

"Right. Sheridan. We're interviewing the mother of our person of interest." He saw the light go off in the kitchen and then watched Vic enter the room and go and stand before the fire. She stared into the flames and then turned and locked eyes with him. She nodded toward his bedroom and silently mouthed the word 'bathroom.' He nodded and then his eyes followed her as she made her way to the doorway and then disappeared into his room.

"Dad? You still there?"

His attention was pulled back to the call with Cady.

"Hmm? Yep. Still here."

"So you wanna reschedule?"

"Yeah. Probably for the best." His eyes were still on the door to his bedroom.

"Should we try dinner on Wednesday again?"

"Sure."

"Ok. I'll stop by your office around seven, like last time." She paused. "And Dad?"

"Yep?"

"If something comes up with the investigation and you need to reschedule again, that's ok. I know how important it is to you to figure out who did this to AJ's son and the rest of the kids."

"Thanks, Punk."

"See you on Wednesday. And good luck tomorrow."

"Thanks. Good night."

"'Night, Dad."

Walt stood and walked over to his desk. Sucking in his lower lip, he stared down at the handset before putting it in its dock. Taking a deep breath, he turned and crossed the room to stand before the fireplace as Vic had done, this time at the left-hand side, giving him a view into his bedroom. He bent down and threw on a couple more logs.

When he heard the bathroom door open, he stood, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Vic looked at him, her face registering surprise as her eyebrows lifted upwards.

"So...what's going on in here?" She motioned toward the bathroom with her thumb.

"What's goings on in...oh that." He moved to the entrance of his bedroom. "I...I worked on that last weekend. After I dropped you off I...I had a lot on my...I needed to keep busy." He stepped into the room and joined her in the doorway to the bathroom.

They stood, side-by-side, staring into the small bathroom, each studying the progress he'd made so far fixing it up. He thought about telling her that he'd also been mortified by the condition the room had been in when she'd used it last Saturday, and that he hadn't wanted her to see it that way again. But that would mean admitting that he planned to have her back in his cabin, which was something he was only now admitting to himself.

"I was jealous, earlier. Of Theresa."

This time it was his eyebrows that raised as he shook himself from his thoughts and looked over at her. "Theresa and I are just friends."

Vic's gaze dropped to his chin. "You shaved for your dinner with her tonight."

"No, I didn't."

She reached out and briefly touched his jaw, her fingers slightly cool and soft against his skin. "I was up close and personal with your stubble just hours ago. You definitely shaved. And got your hair cut."

When she dropped her hand, he took a step closer. "I mean I didn't shave because of our dinner. Theresa's not the one I shaved for."

Vic's eyes slowly raised back to his. He didn't step back or look away.

After a moment she turned, looking back into the bathroom.

Noticing how quiet the cabin was, he glanced over his shoulder. "The music's stopped."

She looked up at him. "Who was the singer you were playing when we came in?"

"Dinah Washington. Familiar with her?"

Vic shook her head.

"I think you'd recognize at least a few of her songs."

Vic arched an eyebrow. "You and I don't really listen to the same music."

The corners of his mouth turned upward. "I still think you've heard a few of her songs. If you want, I can play the record again, and you'll see what I mean."

Vic pressed her lips together. "Ok." She reached into the bathroom and turned off the light. With the only light now coming from the lamp on his desk in the other room, Walt paused as his eyes adjusted to the near darkness.

Neither of them made a move to leave the room.

"Who called?"

He blinked.

"Cady. She...she needed to reschedule our plans tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yep. She must have heard that someone else had brought me breakfast."

He could just make out a grin. Or half-smile, since he could only see one side of her face.

"So, Cady's not going to be dropping by in the morning?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. Rescheduled plans. Freshly stocked fridge. It looks like you get to sleep in."

He immediately thought about ways he could spend his morning, and was thankful for the low light that hopefully prevented his face from broadcasting what had crossed his mind. Shifting his stance, he placed his hands on his hips.

"Do you want a beer?"

He watched the lashes of her right eye lower and then lift. "Sure."

Again, neither of them moved.

He licked his lips and smoothed down the hair at the back of his head even though it wasn't out of place.

Vic took a step toward him, and then another.

He could hear her soft breathing.

He wondered if she could hear his heart hammering away in his chest

He felt her hand on his upper arm, her finger running across his sleeve and over the scar that lay beneath the fabric. The scar that neither of them could forget was there.

Lifting his hand, he brought it to rest on her cheek.

They hovered there, faces close, breaths mixing. Somewhere inside he knew she was waiting for him to be the one to move things forward. That she needed him to initiate, given how things had gone after she'd initiated the previous weekend.

Slowly wrapping his other arm around her, he pulled her closer and lowered his head. He brushed his lips lightly against hers as he wove his hand through her hair. Her hand moved from his arm to his chest, and then gripped his shirt. She pulled him down as he lifted her into him, their lips came together, and suddenly there was nothing restraining them. Bodies pressed tightly together, hands roaming, mouths responding and exploring.

Finally, pulling apart, they both scrambled for air. Their chests heaving, their faces still close, he leaned in and kissed her jaw. She leaned into him, her cheek smooth and warm against his. He felt her smile into his neck, as she simultaneously punched him in the shoulder, her voice a whisper.

"About time."

XX

Walt readjusted the position of his arm behind his head, and then turned the page.

"How long have you been up reading?"

Her voice was thick with slumber, and he felt his body react. Lifting his eyes from the book, he found her head turned toward him but her eyes closed. "A little while."

She rubbed a hand across her face and then looked over at him. "How can you concentrate on a book first thing in the morning?"

He shrugged. "I've always started my weekends reading." What he didn't tell her was how little reading he'd accomplished that morning, given that he'd been distracted by other thoughts, and visuals, since he'd awoken.

"So this is just a usual day for you?"

There was caution in her eyes and a tenseness to her jaw. Like she thought he'd been lying here next to her waiting for her to wake up so that she could leave. Or he could bolt.

"I'm trying to treat it like it is. A usual day." He didn't know if he was trying to prove to her or to himself that he could deal with what was happening between them.

Something flickered in her gaze, but the crease between her eyes still remained. He wanted to reach over and smooth it out.

"Do you usually read here in bed?

"I usually read on the couch, after I've had a cup of coffee."

"Why didn't you go out there this morning? There'd definitely be more light."

He closed the book and lay it on his chest. "I...I didn't want you to have to wake up in bed alone."

She blinked, and her jaw tensed again. "Like you had to last Saturday?" She blinked again. "Sorry about that."

"You were just in the bathroom. I'm the one who left the room."

He thought about reaching out and taking her hand, which lay on the bed in the space between them.

"What are you reading?"

He turned the cover toward her. "_The Grapes of Wrath_."

"So, a cheery start to your day?"

His eyes crinkled in mirth. "Yep." He longed to see the same humor reflected in her eyes. Instead she turned and stared up at the ceiling.

His eyes drifted to her hair, which was fanned across her pillow.

When he returned to her face, she shifted under his gaze and pulled the sheet up a little. "What?"

He looked away. "Nothing." He could see her questioning look out of the corner of his eye. "I just don't get to see you with...with your hair down very often."

He turned his head toward her.

She looked up at the ceiling again, but directed her left thumb at him.

"Well I don't get to see you dressed like this at work very often. I'm certain I wouldn't get anything done, including reading, if I did."

When she turned toward him he was relieved to see a gleam in her eyes.

"Very often? When do I ever dress like this at work?"

"Well you did strip off your shirt in front of me in the Reading Room."

Now he was even more certain that there was laughter in her eyes and he smiled.

His phone rang from the other room, and both pairs of eyes flew to the door.

When he didn't move, she nudged his ankle with her foot. "You gonna get that? Could be work."

"If it's important, they'll leave a message, or call back until I pick up."

"So, is this what you've been doing every time I've called the cabin and you didn't answer?"

"What? Reading Steinbeck? Or lying in bed next to a naked woman?"

She laughed and it warmed his heart.

"I meant waiting to determine how urgent the call was before answering."

He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe."

He was never happier to see an eye roll from her than he was at that moment. "You do know what happens when it's someone other than me calling from work and you don't answer?"

His phone stopped ringing, and a few seconds later her cell phone, which lay in the pile of clothes on the floor, began to ring.

"Yep."

After the second ring, Vic made a move toward the side of the bed, climbing over his midsection to reach down to the floor. As the upper half of her body hung off the edge so she could dig through their clothes, Walt's hand went to her hip to prevent her from sliding off entirely. She looked over her shoulder at him as she raised her phone to her ear.

"Vic."

He couldn't hear what the caller was saying, but he didn't think he would have been able to concentrate on the words even if he could, what with her naked form on top of his, and her skin warm against his hand.

"Ok."

A pause as she listened to the caller continue. "I'll let Walt know." Walt dropped his hand from her side. "Uh...I mean I'll tell Walt when he picks me up to head to Sheridan."

His eyes followed the curve of her exposed back as he waited for the call to end.

"Thanks Ferg."

Vic hung up and placed the phone back near the pile on the floor.

When she turned, and started to move back toward her side of the bed, Walt's hand once again returned to her side, halting her movement.

She looked up at him, and then arched an eyebrow in his direction.

He responded with his own raised eyebrow.

"What did Ferg have to say?"

Placing her hands on the bed on each side of his torso, she began to slide up his chest, a gleam once again in her eyes as she approached. "I told Ferg I'd pass along the info when you came to pick me up. I think you said you'd be at my place at eleven."

Momentarily closing his eyes, his body reacted to every part of her that was in contact with him.

He opened his eyes and found her head above his. She looked down at him, the mirth he'd finally earned replaced by something more serious. Her hair hung loose and the ends brushed against him. As he took a breath, he could feel her chest move with her own deep inhale. He was about to lift his hand to run his fingers through her hair when she rolled off him and lay at his side on her back.

He tilted his head to the right. "What?"

"I don't know if I want to tell you what Ferg said...yet."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll go into sheriff mode just hearing something about work and...pull back." She waved her hand back and forth between them. "From all this."

"I'm always in sheriff mode. I can't help it."

She looked up at the ceiling.

Propping himself up on his forearm, he watched her chest slowly rise and fall beneath the sheet. "I'm trying, Vic. I am."

Chewing on her lower lip, she exhaled deeply. "Tom Haskill called the station this morning. He told Ferg we have about an hour with Joanne Daniels before she has to go to the hospital to pick up Rich, and bring him home, so we should do our best to be on time. And he suggested I not wear my uniform shirt to put her more at ease."

She turned her head, looking up at him through her lashes, her lips parting as if she had more to add. But after a moment she closed her mouth without saying anything.

"Is there something else?"

Her lips parted again. "I..." She paused, and then shook her head slightly, and then looked away. "I should go home and change before we head out. You can take a shower, and then come pick me up. We should still be ok leaving my place by eleven."

She was leaving. Walt sank back into the mattress. "Ok." He tried to hide his disappointment from his voice.

Reaching across his chest, Vic grabbed his left arm and pulled his wrist in front of her face to look at his watch. "We've got a couple hours before I need to leave."

He rolled his head to the side, and could feel the grin erupting on his face. "You hungry?"

"Starving."

"What do you want me to make for breakfast?"

"I thought you couldn't cook."

"You've seen my skill with bacon. I can do breakfast."

She let go of his wrist, and tucked both arms under her head. "Surprise me."

He paused. "Those words make me very nervous. I think you have strong opinions about breakfast."

"As long as the meal includes coffee, I'm good."

Sitting up, Walt scanned the floor until he found his boxers. He pulled them on and then stood. Vic eyed him as he made his way around the bed to his dresser. When he selected a t-shirt, pulled it over his head and turned, he found that she'd moved closer to the edge of her side of the mattress.

Under her steady gaze, he walked over to the bed and sat down.

He felt her hand cover his right knee, and then her fingers move in slow patterns across his thigh. His eyes lingered on her face and then traveled to her neck, and the skin visible above the sheet tucked around her chest.

Her hand stilled, as her forehead creased. "Walt?"

"Yep?" He placed his right hand on the bed near her hip.

She stared up at him and he saw it again. That look of uncertainty. Of wanting to say something to him. Was it concern that the bubble they were in would burst as soon as the outside world got ahold of them? Or was it something else?

And then she blinked and the look was gone.

"Nothing."

He reached out and touched the hair draped over her left shoulder before pulling his hand back. "Well I should get started on breakfast."

He started to stand when she suddenly sat up and grabbed his shirt, tugging him down toward the bed. And then her mouth covered his as she leaned back, pulling him with her.

XX

Walt raised his hand to knock when the door suddenly opened.

Vic looked up, surprised.

"What are you doing?" She stepped out carrying her uniform shirt on a hanger, her backpack, a file folder and a few of the yearbooks, which she attempted to adjust in her arms to lock the door.

Confused by her question, Walt's hands went to his hips. "Picking you up to drive up to Sheridan, like we discussed."

"I mean, why did you come up to my door? You always wait in the truck."

"I've never picked you up at your place before."

"Whenever you pick me up from anywhere you just wait for me in your truck."

"Oh. Uh..."

Vic started walking toward the Bronco, before calling out over her shoulder. "And don't even think about opening my door for me."

Walt stopped in his tracks, and then started heading for the driver-side. Once again he watched her do a balancing act to shift the items in her arms so that she could open the passenger door.

As she slid into her seat, she looked over at him. "Walt, you need to be how you normally are around me at work." She turned and started putting the things she had brought with her into the back of the truck. She glanced over her shoulder at him. "You don't hold doors for me, or pull out my chair, or escort me to your truck. You can't start doing that now, just because we...people are going to notice if you start treating me differently. I don't want you to treat me differently at work." She rotated and sank back into her seat, the file folder in her hands.

Walt closed his door and looked out the windshield as he started up the engine.

"You're right."

He shifted into reverse, and with a quick glance her way, pulled out of her driveway.

Out on the road, with one hand loosely griping the steering wheel, he glanced over at her. "I guess that means no more changing my shirt in front of you at the office."

Her eyes dropped to her lap as she flipped the folder open. "Oh, I never said anything about that. You were doing that before this all started, so by all means, carry on. We don't want anyone to get suspicious."

As his grip on the wheel tightened, he saw her look up and lean toward the dashboard to turn on the radio, and couldn't help but notice the smile on her face.

XX

They'd driven in silence for a while, but his brain had been anything but quiet. Every now and then he'd tried to casually look over at her. She'd been staring down at the case file in her lap for a while, and this time, when he glanced at her, he wondered if she was actually focused on the information the documents contained, or if she was churning through her own thoughts, like he was.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on in that head of yours?"

He hadn't seen her look up from the papers she was reading, and therefore was surprised by her question. "I...uh...I was thinking that we don't know much about Joanne Daniels."

She flipped through a few of the pages in front of her. "You mean other than knowing she's our primary suspect's mother, and that she has a live-in boyfriend who is kind of a dick?"

"Kind of?"

She glanced his way, looking over the top of her aviators at him. "You're right, he's absolutely a dick."

"We know that she agreed to let the Sheridan County Sheriff's Office take pictures from her house and Tyler's laptop, without there needing to be a warrant. She may be open to answering our questions."

Vic nodded. "Maybe. But she might be protective of her son or boyfriend and hold things back. It will be interesting to see if she chooses sides, and is more protective of one over the other."

Her eyes stayed on his and he felt the effect she often had on him. The pull to open up to her and say things that he often kept to himself with everyone else.

"I..." Clearing his throat, he started over. "I was also thinking about the fact that I've never woken up with someone and then driven with them to work. This is definitely new for me."

She ran a finger along her lower lip. "New like 'this is scary, and I can't handle it, and I'm starting to freak out because now I have to sit with her in my damn truck' new?"

His left hand went to the back of his neck. "New like...new. Different."

Her brow furrowed. "Different good or different bad?"

He paused. "Different good, but still different. Different can be..."

"Hard?"

"Yep. Or at least an adjustment."

"Well, when I started working for the department a few years ago, and riding with you...that was new. And our styles were different. It was an adjustment...working together...finding our stride. But we did. Find it."

"Yep."

"So we can adjust to this new development. Right?"

Without waiting for his answer she returned her attention to the radio, trying, once again, to find a station that came in, and didn't annoy her.

He allowed his gaze to linger on her. When a song that passed her approval finally came through the speakers, she sat back in her seat and pinned a questioning look on him.

He nodded as he returned his attention to the road. "Right."

XX

As Walt had driven north on 90, they'd talked about the case, both of them doing their best to try to navigate through the yet-to-be-defined state of their relationship by returning to some of their usual patterns. She'd made fun of him. He'd cocked an eyebrow at some of her wild theories regarding who was behind the robberies.

As they pulled on to the street where Joanne Daniels lived, Walt wondered if this is what it took to find their new normal.

Reading the addresses, he pulled over when he found the one they were looking for. They both stared across the lawn at the house.

They were a few minutes early, and it looked like Tom Haskill hadn't arrived yet. Dropping the file folder on the floor near her feet, Vic undid her seatbelt, turned, and started rummaging through the things she'd placed in the back seat.

"Martha didn't really like to ride in the Bronco."

Vic stilled at his words, and then turned, sliding down to a seated position. Her left leg tucked beneath her. Her attention completely on him.

"She didn't like my job. The danger of it. The long hours. The nature of what I was dealing with day in and day out. She didn't outright refuse to sit in the passenger seat, but if given the choice she'd insist we take her car, or she'd meet me there."

Vic didn't say anything, as if she was waiting to see if he was willing to say more.

"Lucian noticed, of course. Teased me about my wife not liking my driving, or my taste in vehicles, or whatever else he could come up with. Martha even heard Lucian's ribbing, but she wouldn't budge. She'd made up her mind long ago on the matter and that's just how it was."

"Did she let Cady drive in the car with you?"

"The car seat was only in Martha's car, so it wasn't even an option when Cady was little. When she was older, Martha did most of the driving when it came to Cady, due to my schedule. And then, eventually, Cady had her own car. I don't think Martha ever told Cady not to ride in the Bronco, or made a deal about it in front of her, but it wasn't something Cady did frequently."

"So your passenger seat has seen more action at work, then at home."

"To some extent, yes."

Vic looked over at him curiously. "You didn't ride with your other deputies before me? Or with Lucian, when he was Sheriff?"

Walt shrugged, as he looked past her and out the passenger window. "I've always worked pretty independently. Lucian was probably the exception." He returned his gaze to her. "And you."

She fell silent for a moment, and Walt wondered how she was taking the news. They'd never really talked about their partnership before.

She turned around, leaned between the seats and started looking through the items in the back seat again. "Is Lucian jealous I claimed this seat?"

Walt smiled. "It has definitely not escaped his attention. And he has not been shy pointing it out either."

"Remind him he retired, so he gave up his rights to it." She sat back down, the yearbooks in her hands. "It's my seat now, so he'll have to fight me for it." She arched an eyebrow. "I could take him, don't you think?"

His smile grew. "He's scrappy, unpredictable and can fight dirty, so it could go either way."

"Well I'll keep my eye on him."

He felt warmth spread across his chest. Less than a week ago she was telling him she couldn't drive with him anymore, and here she was claiming her seat. _Her_ seat.

Walt looked back up at the house. "I saw that you brought your uniform shirt."

Vic leaned forward and picked up the folder. "Yeah, I know Tom said not to wear it, but I brought it in case we needed to go talk to someone else based on what we learn from Tyler's mom. Might need to look more official."

"I was thinking, since we're already up here, it might be a good idea to stop by the bike shop and talk to Evan Brandt, given what we learned from Tuck."

Straightening the contents of the folder, she nodded. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Also, Tom may want us to stop by his office to compare notes from the past few days."

She gathered up the folder and the yearbooks in her arms. "Yeah, that crossed my mind as well."

"And maybe...depending on when things wrap up...and if you're up for it...maybe we could grab some dinner before heading back to Durant."

Vic stilled, and then swiveled her head to the left. "Are you asking me out?"

And of course, Tom Haskill chose that moment to rap against Walt's driver-side window.

* * *

**Thanks for your patience! It took longer than I'd anticipated to complete this chapter. The holidays were busier than expected, and I've been swamped at work (after being off for two weeks). I've been trying to catch up on my fanfiction reading since getting back in town, but I could not make traction on this chapter until the last few days. Hopefully it hasn't been too long, and you remembered enough about the story to be able to follow along with this chapter. Let me know what you think.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for the positive feedback. And PMs with encouraging words. And your patience. My workload has been heavy, as has my work travel, so I've had to relegate fanfiction activities to the weekends. Weekend writing and more complex planning and storytelling (compared to my other stories) have meant longer time between chapters. Thanks for hanging in and continuing to read this story. :)**

* * *

The four of them were seated around the table in the eat-in kitchen. Tom sat to Vic's left, playing the appreciative guest as he dug into the piece of pie that had been placed before him. Walt sat to her right, fork in hand, his focus switching back and forth between their host and taking in the details of the room in which they were gathered. Joanne Daniels sat across the table from Vic, her slice of pie seemingly forgotten as she stared at the tablecloth, her hands fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes.

Tom had done the talking when they'd first entered the house and awkwardly stood at the front door. The offer of pie and the suggestion to sit at the kitchen table had been eagerly accepted by all. But now, as they sat together and moved past the small talk, silence had settled in.

Placing her forearms on the tabletop, Vic grasped the coffee mug in front of her with both hands. There was a chill in the air she hadn't felt in the front entry or hallway and she envied both men for still having their coats on. She pictured her deputy's jacket which she'd left on the seat in the Bronco.

"Feel free to smoke if you'd like. It's your home." Walt's voice pulled Vic out of her thoughts.

Surprised, Joanne looked over at him, as she pulled her fingers off the cigarette package. "Oh, I don't..." She paused. "I quit. Four years ago."

Walt held Joanne's eyes, not giving away whether he believed her statement or not. As her gaze dropped back down to the cigarettes, she released an audible sigh. "When Tyler's not at home, I sometimes sneak one or two. This week..." She looked up, but didn't look directly at any of them. "It seems to have been more than one or two."

Vic watched as Joanne picked the package back up and then turned to her right and opened the window directly behind her. In a move that seemed well-practiced, she took an empty coffee cup off the table, and placed it on the outer ledge of the window before withdrawing a lighter from her pocket. Scooting her chair closer to the wall, and turning it slightly, Joanne leaned toward the open window as she placed the cigarette between her lips and lit it. Vic now understood why the kitchen was cooler in temperature than the rest of the house. This wasn't Joanne's first smoke that day.

"Tyler made me give up smoking. Back when he was in high school. Hounded me for months until I finally relented."

Walt placed his fork down on the edge of his plate. "Did Mr. Sollinger smoke as well?"

Joanne tapped the cigarette against the edge of the mug to release the ashes and then looked over her shoulder at Walt. "Rich? God no. He's never smoked. It's actually one of the few things he and Tyler agree on."

Turning back toward the window, she took another puff of the cigarette. Without turning around, she bowed her head slightly. "I wasn't always a smoker. I started smoking the last year of marriage to Tyler's father."

Walt interlaced his fingers, placing his hands down on the table in front of him. "It must have been a stressful time."

Vic turned her head slightly to look at Walt. She was always amazed at how well he read people and knew the right things to say, in the right way, to get them to open up. Her gaze lingered on his face, and then fell to his clasped hands.

Joanne's soft chuckle brought her back to the conversation. "Stressful. That's a nice way of putting how things were both before and after the divorce. 'Shitty' is more like it."

Placing the cigarette briefly between her lips, she took a draw and then released an exhale of smoke out the window.

"Supporting the two of us on my own. Being a single parent. It was 'shitty' for a while."

"How long after you and your husband divorced did you meet Mr. Sollinger?"

Another draw on the cigarette. "When did Rich and I...God, it must have been about a year later."

"How did you two meet?"

She laughed as she continued to stare out the window. "I brought my car in to his shop to be fixed. Rich asked me out but I turned him down. With how things had ended with Jesse...I wasn't looking to get involved with anyone. But I wasn't making much money back then, and the cost to repair the car was going to be steep. He offered a discount if I would go on one date with him."

"And he won you over on that first date?"

She shrugged. "I guess I realized it was less 'shitty' to have someone else in it with me."

"But you never married?"

Her head turned slightly toward them, her lips pursed. This probably wasn't the first time she'd been asked about their marital status. "Rich is wary of marriage. His first one ended more disastrously than mine."

Vic leaned forward in her chair. "Rich is accusing Tyler of being the one who robbed the store and assaulting him. Do you believe your son could do this?"

Joanne's gaze once again followed the trail of smoke. "Tyler has never hurt...anyone."

"Has anyone ever hurt Tyler? Does Rich ever beat him?"

Her arm still out the window holding the cigarette, Joanne's eyebrows knotted as she turned toward Vic. "Rich has never laid a hand on him."

"Did Tyler's father ever hurt him?"

Joanne's eyes skated across Vic's face and then kept going, until they landed on something behind her. After a moment, she shook her head. "No." She turned and took a final draw on the cigarette before grinding it into the bottom of the mug.

Vic's eyes darted briefly over to Walt. "Did your ex-husband ever hurt you?"

Rotating in her seat, Joanne turned to face them. "No. Never. We argued, especially towards the end, but he never hit me."

"You say that Rich doesn't physically harm Tyler, but we understand, from both of them, that they don't get along. Has that always been the case?"

"Tyler used to idolize his father. We hid a lot of our arguing from him, so Tyler was surprised when we split. He...he wasn't thrilled that I started dating Rich. I think he thought his father would return."

"Does he see his father?"

"No. It was one of the things Jesse and I argued about. He didn't put his family first. Turns out there was another woman. They have a family now. And moved out of state. He hasn't been back to see Tyler since he left."

"Do Rich and Tyler argue, or just ignore each other?"

Joanne's gaze dropped to the pack of cigarettes. "Depends on the day."

Walt lay his hands on the table, fingers spread. "When we talked to Mr. Sollinger, he had some choice words to say about your son."

Joanne ran her hand through her hair as she raised her eyes to the clock on the wall. "Rich is a little...hard on him."

Walt waited until Joanne's eyes returned to his. "Does he say those things in front of Tyler? To Tyler's face?"

"Rich wants Tyler to live up to his potential. He gets...frustrated...when Tyler doesn't seem...He's just trying to motivate him."

"He says Tyler can be obsessive."

The pack of cigarettes was back in her hands. "Tyler can be many things."

"Is obsessive one of them?"

She flipped the box from one hand to the other and then back again. "He gets...focused on some things. Intensely focused."

"Does he take it to extremes?"

"If you're asking if his intense focus could cause him to hurt someone, I've never seen him take it to that extreme."

"Why do you think Mr. Sollinger has accused your son of doing this if you don't think it's possible that he could have?"

Again Joanne glanced up at the clock. "You'd have to ask him."

"We did. He thinks Tyler's capable and motivated to do so."

Pulling the lid of the pack back, Joanne stared down at the cigarettes. With a shake of her head, she tossed the box on the table, pushed her chair back and stood. She closed the window and then turned back toward them. "I should probably start heading to the hospital. They're releasing Rich today and I promised I'd get there by one o'clock."

Tom stood and pushed his chair in before picking up his plate. "Thank you for taking the time to talk to us, Joanne."

"I'm not sure I was that helpful." She picked up her own plate and began to walk toward the sink.

Tom turned to face her, taking the plate out of her hands. "We're trying to help them both out, Joanne. If Tyler is innocent, we want to be able to prove it. But if Rich is right. If Tyler did this to him, we want to be able to get Tyler the help he needs."

Vic noticed Joanne's chin drop a fraction.

"If there's anything you need to do before going to Sheridan Memorial..." Tom lifted the plates in his hands. "We'll take care of all of this, while you do it."

Joanne paused, and then nodded before heading for the hallway.

Walt looked up at Vic, and then with a quick glance at Joanne's retreating back, slid the file folder across the table. Picking up the remaining plates, he joined Tom at the sink.

Scooping up the folder, Vic quickly stepped up to Joanne's side to join her in the hallway. "Have you lived in this house a long time?"

Joanne paused. "It will be twenty-two years this May. Jesse and I moved in shortly after we married."

"Wow. Twenty-two years is a long time." Vic looked at a black and white photo of a couple hanging to their right on the wall. She saw some resemblance between Joanne and the woman in the picture.

"Are those your parents?"

Joanne looked over at the photograph. "Yes. It was taken about a year before I was born."

Vic looked at the remainder of the mostly empty wall. "I've got to be honest, I'm surprised you don't have more pictures up, given how long you've been in this house."

Joanne glanced down the hallway in the direction Vic was looking. "I did a big purge after the divorce. Even though Tyler still loved his dad, I couldn't look at that jerk's face."

With a quick glance over her shoulder, Vic confirmed that Walt was standing inside the doorway to the kitchen, listening in, unnoticed by Joanne.

"And since then?"

"Tyler refused to take any pictures with Rich in those early years. And then he did his own purge, taking down most of the pictures I still had up."

"Why?"

"He'd lost a lot of weight, and he didn't want any reminders of his former self around the house."

"When was this?"

"His freshman year...or I guess it was that summer before his sophomore year when he took them down."

Joanne stared at the wall, as if she was remembering a photograph that had previously hung there. "He took his father leaving hard. He'd been chubby as a child, but after Jesse left, he just packed on the pounds."

"What got him to lose the weight?"

Joanne blinked, and with a slight shake of her head, started walking again. "He came home from school one day, freshman year, upset. He locked himself in his bedroom and wouldn't come out for two days. When he finally surfaced he..." Again Joanne stopped and stared absently at the wall.

"Do you know what upset him?"

"No. He wouldn't talk about it. But whatever it was really kicked him in gear."

Vic wondered if it had been something Rich had said to Tyler that had _motivated_ him.

"He started using Rich's weights in the basement, and began running every morning before school. He watched these training videos online and constantly read fitness and nutrition blogs. He went into our kitchen one day and threw out all the food he deemed to be bad for us, and ate only protein shakes and salads for three months straight. He was..."

"Intensely focused?"

An almost inaudible laugh escaped from Joanne. "Yeah."

"Was that when he convinced you to stop smoking?"

She nodded.

"What did his friends think about what he was doing?"

"Tyler didn't have many friends back then."

"I understand he's part of an outdoors club now. Have you met any of his friends from that group?"

"No. He goes on all these adventure trips with them, but I think most of them don't live in Sheridan."

"Have you met his girlfriend?"

Joanne paused. "Tyler has a girlfriend?"

Vic reached into the file folder and took out the picture of the two girls that Ferg had found and handed it to her.

Joanne stared down at the photograph. "Which one is his girlfriend?"

"We think it may be the one sitting closer to the dog, but we're not sure. Tyler had that dog with him when we talked to him on Monday. He said it was his girlfriend's, but didn't elaborate any further."

"Well, they're both very pretty. Are they in the outdoors group with him?"

"We think that's a possibility."

"He hasn't brought either of these girls back to the house, or mentioned them. He's always been like that. He tends to keep things to himself."

"How do you feel about the fact that Tyler has decided to commit his time to these outdoor activities instead of going to college right now?"

Joanne rubbed her hand across her eyes. "Rich is pissed. Thinks I shouldn't let him stay here since he thinks Tyler's wasting his brain and any potential he has, and that he's wandering around without any responsibility. I think he gets that restless spirit from his dad, so I'd rather he get it out of his system now, instead of down the road when he has a family. And if he didn't stay here I don't think I'd ever see him."

"Have you seen him this week? I know that Tyler was out of town hiking last weekend. Has he returned since then?"

"He came home on Tuesday night, but he's off on another group trek this weekend."

"Do you know where they're hiking?"

"No."

"Did he say when he'd be back?"

Joanne shook her head.

"Is that unusual that he doesn't tell you where he's headed or when he expects to be back in town?"

"Not really. He's pretty independent. He moved his bedroom down to the basement so he could come and go as he pleases. There's an entrance directly into the basement on the side of the house."

Vic glanced over at Walt, who had appeared with Tom in the hallway behind them, before looking back at Joanne. "Can you show us?"

XX

As they waited at the intersection for the light to turn green, she watched Walt's hands as they grasped the steering wheel. She loved when he tapped his fingers when he was deep in thought, like he was now. She suspected he didn't even realize he did it.

Turning her head, her eyes landed on his face. His lower lip was sucked in. Another sign he was churning through thoughts. "So, what do you think? Shirt on or off?"

"Off." Walt blinked twice. "Wait, what are we talking about?"

Vic laughed. "You just said you wanted my shirt off, so what situation were you considering with that answer?"

The corners of his mouth lifted but he didn't respond as he moved his foot from the brake to the gas.

She laughed harder. "I was referring to when we go in to talk to Evan Brandt."

He glanced over at her. "I think, for Evan's sake, you should be wearing a shirt."

She smacked his arm. "Thanks, wise-ass. I meant should I change in to my uniform shirt before we talk to him?"

"You'll have on your jacket while we're talking to him, so it won't really make a difference what you have on underneath."

"Are you back to making a case for why I don't need a shirt on at all?"

This time it was Walt who laughed. "To clarify...I think you should stay dressed as you are now."

"Are you saying keep my shirt on _now_, but _later_..." She arched an eyebrow suggestively.

Walt shook his head as he pulled the Bronco in to a parking spot and shut off the engine. "I'm withdrawing from this conversation, as I don't think I can win."

Vic reached for the door handle, but looked over her shoulder at him with a mischievous look in her eye. "If I'm not wearing a shirt at some point, I think you could say that you _did_ win." And on that note, she opened the door and stepped out of the truck.

XX

From where they stood near the front entrance, Vic watched Evan talking to a customer at the counter. She heard him thank the woman for shopping at the store, before handing her a bag.

As they drew closer to the register, Evan looked up, his smile fading when he recognized them.

Vic gave him a reassuring smile. "Hi Evan."

Evan nodded as he picked up the pen on the counter and placed it in the nearby cup. "Hi."

"Are you manning the store alone?"

He paused and then shook his head. "That's my brother over there." He pointed to a man in his late twenties talking to a couple near the camping equipment.

"Is there somewhere in the back of the store where we could talk?"

"Uh...yeah. Let me just tell James."

Walt and Vic walked to the end of the counter to wait for Evan, who made his way down the aisle toward his brother.

Walt cleared his throat. "Do you like camping?"

"I haven't really gone other than a couple times I went as a kid." She looked over at the sleeping bags. "Unless you count that time that I was keeping my eye on Branch and spent the night freezing my ass off on the hard ground. If that's your version of camping, then 'no,' I'm not much of a fan."

"I've seen Branch's version of camping, and I'm not a fan either."

Vic looked around the store. "My family was more team sport-oriented than outdoorsy."

"A Philadelphia thing?"

She nodded. "And a Moretti thing."

She looked over at him. "What about you—"

But before she could get her question out, Evan came around the corner. "Ok. I've talked to James."

With a glance at Walt, Vic followed Evan to the back of the store.

As they walked through the doorway, Evan stopped. "This is where he came through. The guy that robbed the store last Saturday." He walked them down a hallway. "And this is the back door. How he entered."

Evan propped the door open to give them a view of the area in back of the store.

When they were finished looking around, he walked them over to an office. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"

Vic unzipped her jacket. "No, thanks."

Walt shook his head.

Evan pulled a third chair over to the desk, and gestured for Vic, who was closest, to take it. As Vic took a seat, she looked up at the wall behind Evan. It was almost completely covered in pictures of Evan and James and others rock climbing, hiking, camping, mountain biking and snowboarding.

"You guys sure love the outdoors."

Evan glanced back at the wall. "Yeah."

"How did you get into this stuff?"

"Uh...my parents, I guess. Plus, James and his friends were really into all of it, and he let me tag along a lot of the time."

"Well it looks like this store is perfect for the two of you."

"Yeah. We're pretty lucky."

Evan's eyes flicked over to Walt, who hadn't said a word. Walt was scanning the pictures, and Vic knew it wasn't just out of interest in Evan's pastime.

Leaning forward, his forearms resting on the edge of the desk, Walt turned his gaze toward Evan.

"Evan, we've learned how you and Tuck Jensen are connected."

Evan didn't say anything in response, but Vic detected a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"We came across the report from the car crash that resulted in Tuck's mother's death back in May."

Evan's gaze dropped.

"We saw your name listed as the driver of the other car."

Evan continued to look down at the desk.

"We know that it was an accident." Walt shifted in his seat. "We believe you know that Tuck is Olivia Jensen's son. What we don't understand is why you kept this information from us."

Evan brought his hand to the back of his neck but didn't look up.

Walt waited.

Dropping his hand to his lap, Evan rubbed the edge of his cast. "I don't know...I...I didn't think it was relevant to the case...the fact that I recognize him because of something that happened five months ago."

"It was a pretty big something."

Evan looked up at Walt. "Are...are you saying the car accident has something to do with the robberies?"

"You tell us. Do you think there is a connection?"

"I...I don't think so."

Drumming his fingers along the desktop, Walt stayed focused on Evan's face, while Vic's attention was once again held by Walt's hands. At his voice she tore her eyes away and looked back up.

"Have you made any contact with Tuck since the accident?"

"No."

"You haven't gone down to UW to seek him out, or even to Durant when he was home from school?"

"No."

"And you haven't run across him here in Sheridan?"

His brow creasing in confusion, Evan shook his head.

Vic leaned forward. "What about Nick?"

He shifted his gaze to her. "Nick?"

"We assume you told Nick about Tuck."

Evan paused and then nodded his head.

"Do you think Nick has made contact with Tuck?"

Evan's confused look returned. "Why would he do that?"

"Maybe Tuck initiated something and Nick got involved."

"Tuck hasn't. Initiated. And Nick hasn't done anything."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Who else knows about the accident?"

Vic saw Walt turn his focus back to the wall of pictures.

"My family."

She held Evan's eyes. "Anyone else?"

"I...uh...I don't know. I don't really talk about it. It was right after I graduated, so I haven't really been around a lot of people who'd I'd want to tell."

"Any chance someone from your family got involved? James, maybe?"

Evan shook his head. "James has been too busy with the store and the clinics we run to get involved in...anything."

"What about the UW game you two go to every year? Have you gone down to Laramie for the game this year?"

"Yes, but James was with me the whole time. We never crossed paths with Tuck. Plus, he knows who Tuck is because he plays for the Cowboys, but I haven't told him he's related to the woman who was in the car I hit."

"Have you or Nick reached out to Tuck on Facebook or any other site?"

"No."

"Has Tuck or any of his friends reached out to you?"

"No."

"So five months ago a car accident occurred that connected the two of you, and last week, someone decided to rob both of the stores you work at purely by coincidence?"

His eyes flicked between the two of them. "I...I guess."

Vic pointed a thumb in Walt's direction. "The sheriff here doesn't believe in coincidences."

Vic glanced over at Walt, expecting him to back up the statement she had just made, but instead he rose from his seat, and walked around the desk. His hands went to his hips as he zeroed in on a picture on the wall that she couldn't see from where she was seated. After a moment he turned around, reached across the desk and picked up the file folder in front of her.

He turned back toward the wall and pointed to a picture, and then looked over at Evan. "Who are these girls?"

As she stood up, craning her neck to see which picture he was pointing to, Walt raised the picture he had taken from the case file. The one they had shown earlier to Joanne Daniels.

Evan looked at the picture on the wall and then at the one in Walt's hand.

"The one on the right is named Jessica. The girl on her left is her friend, but I can't remember her name. Kayla. Or Kacey. I think it began with a 'k.'"

"How do you know these girls?"

He pointed to the picture on the wall. "This one was taken during the clinic we held in May up in Billings for a Trailhead group. That's where I met the girls."

"Was that the only time you've seen them?"

"Umm...Jessica and I hung out one time after that."

Vic stepped closer to them, and then leaned back against the desk. "Like a date? You asked her out?"

Evan stared at the picture. "I guess she asked me out."

"When did she ask you out."

"Uh...at the end of the clinic. While I was packing up the truck."

"Where did you go for your date?"

Evan scratched the side of his neck with his hand. "Uh...a place called Steepworld. It's a climbing gym that's not too far from campus."

"The MSU campus in Billings?"

"Yeah. That's where we both went to school. She was a freshman, I think."

"And you only went out that once?"

"Yeah."

Vic crossed her arms in front of her. "You weren't into her?"

"It...it wasn't that. After..." He paused and ducked his head. "After the car accident I...uh...I kind of avoided her calls. Everyone's calls. She eventually gave up."

"Did Jessica mention that she knew Tyler Daniels?" Vic flipped open the file folder and pulled out a picture of Tyler. "We asked you about him the last time we talked. You told us he was at the same bike clinic."

"Uh, no...I don't remember her talking about him when we went out."

"Do you remember Tyler and Jessica talking to each other during the clinic?"

"I wasn't really paying attention to who was talking to each other." Again he looked between them. "What does Jessica have to do with all this?"

Walt held up the picture of the girls again. "Tyler had Jessica's dog with him when we talked to him on Monday. He said that the dog belonged to his girlfriend."

Evan straightened. "Do you think Jessica was involved in the robberies?"

"We don't know. We want to find Jessica so we can talk to her."

"I...I don't know her that well, but I can't picture her being involved. She was...really nice. And, besides, she was like five feet tall, so she definitely couldn't have been the one breaking into the stores."

"Do you know where she lives?"

"She lived on campus last year. I can't remember which dorm."

"Do you have her phone number and her last name?"

Evan dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. After searching through his contacts, he turned the phone toward Vic. "Her last name is Suarez."

Vic looked down at the screen and then wrote down the number.

Evan's hand dropped and she looked up and found him staring down at the file folder which lay open on the desk. Tuck's picture was visible, and Evan's eyes were fixed on it.

"How's Tuck doing?"

Walt took a step toward the desk. "Given all that's happened to him, he's doing ok. They've scheduled his next surgery."

Evan exhaled, his eyes closing as he bent his head. "What a shit year."

She didn't know if he meant his year, or Tuck's, or if he had even meant to say it out loud, but when he looked up she saw his eyes were moist. Quickly running his hand over his face, he moved toward the door. "I..." His voice cracked, and he started again. "I need to get back out front."

XX

Vic folded and unfolded the paper napkin in her hand. "I'm guessing this isn't what you had in mind when you asked me to go to dinner."

Walt looked around the bar. "Nope."

She smiled. "We may need a dinner do-over."

She saw a grin start to form on his lips as he dipped his head slightly toward her. "I'm actually pretty good at those. Do-overs."

She bumped the side of his right arm with her left shoulder. "I've heard that about you."

Placing three beers on the table, Tom Haskill slid onto the bench across from them in the booth. "They'll be over with menus in a moment." He moved two of the bottles closer to them. "Ever been here before, Vic?"

Vic shook her head. "Don't think so."

"I've brought Walt here a few times. Well, probably more than a few. The service can be slow, but the staff is friendly, and the food is good, so we put up with it. Plus, it isn't far from the office."

"It kind of reminds me of a bar and grille back in Philly."

A waitress appeared and dropped three menus in front of Tom. "Be right with you fellas."

Vic's eyebrows arched as she watched the waitress walk over to another table.

Tom laughed as he handed Vic a menu. "I wouldn't take it personally. I'm sure she didn't even look at your side of the booth, and just assumed I was here with some of my deputies."

"Yep. Definitely reminds me of that bar back home." She glanced down at her menu. "So, what's good here?"

"It's all pretty good, but they're known for their reuben."

Walt picked up his beer but didn't look up from his menu. "Vic doesn't like corned beef."

She saw Tom lift his head and look at Walt as he took a sip from the bottle, but dropped her eyes to her own menu before his attention shifted to her.

"Evening Sheriff. So what can I get you boys?" The waitress looked down at Tom, pad and pen in hand, smile at full wattage.

"A reuben for me Molly." Tom handed over his menu.

"Sure thing, Sheriff."

Walt closed his menu. "I'll have the same."

The waitress turned her smile on Walt, tapping him in the shoulder with the menu in her hands. "Is that all, Sheriff? I still can't convince you to go for a salad?"

The corners of his mouth lifted as he held up his menu for her to take.

Feeling a burr of irritation, Vic leaned across Walt and handed her menu over. "I'll take your 'All-American,' Molly. And you convinced me. I'll have a side salad instead of fries."

Molly paused, her pen on her notepad, and looked over at Vic. Vic noticed she wasn't greeted with the toothy smile she'd bestowed on the other two, so she gave her a big grin of her own.

Molly blinked, a smile sliding back into place. "How do you want your burger?"

Vic deliberately stayed close to Walt as she leaned in to the table. "Medium. And the vinaigrette dressing for the salad."

Molly finished writing down the order and then flashed a smile at Tom. "Alrighty then. I'll be back with your sandwiches in a bit." She headed for the kitchen, a noticeable sway in her hips.

With an eye roll, Vic picked up her beer, and leaned back, looking across the table at Tom. "You mentioned that you had someone looking into Jessica Suarez."

Bending his right arm, Tom hooked it on the back of the booth seat.

"Leo found her Facebook page and confirmed she's a student at MSU Billings."

"Did you find any connection between her and Tyler, other than the fact that he had that picture posted?"

"Tyler is not listed as one of her Facebook friends and we didn't find any pictures of the two of them together on either of their accounts. We were able to determine that the other girl in the picture is named Kelsey Dunn."

"Did you find an address for either girl?"

"The university's register office is closed for the weekend, so we don't have access to their campus housing information. Jessica's cell phone is under her parents account. They live in Livingston, Montana. We haven't been able to reach them. We tried Jessica's phone as well, but it goes straight to voicemail."

"What about the Trailhead group? Do we know if either girl is actually a member? We might be able to get their contact info through them."

"We've got an email into the contact listed for the group, but it could be some time before we hear back. With it being the weekend, and knowing that these folks like to be outdoors whenever they can, they might not be checking email."

Walt cupped his chin in thought, his fingers slowly sliding along his jaw. "Since there's a chance the girls are a part of the Trailhead group, we might be able to find out some information about them from the two kids who vouched for Tyler on Saturday morning. Cody and Bryce."

Tom looked at his watch. "We could get our meals to go, and then head to the office and give them a call."

"We called them yesterday. Cody's roommate said they're hiking until Sunday, but that they'd be back by noon." He looked over at Vic. "You and I could head up to Billings tomorrow and see what they know about Jessica. Tyler as well."

She nodded. "Sounds like the best option we have right now."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw their waitress approaching their table. With a smile, Molly lowered two plates with reubens in front of Walt and Tom. With barely a glance at Vic, she called over her shoulder. "I'll be right back with yours, hon."

Vic pressed her lips together and nodded. "Sure."

When both men held back from starting on their sandwiches, she leaned into the table. "You guys should start eating. You never know how long it might take to throw a side salad together."

The corner of Walt's mouth lifted at her sarcasm. "We can wait."

Molly returned, and placed Vic's burger on the table. "Is there anything else I can get you fell—"

Tom laughed, with an apologetic look at Vic. "I think we're good Molly."

"Well, wave me over when you're ready for the next round."

"We will. Thanks."

Vic picked up her burger and took a bite, her eyes closing in appreciation. Given how good the burgers were, she could only imagine how good the reubens must be if they were what the bar was known for.

Walt picked up his beer and looked over at Tom. "Any luck locating Tyler?"

Lowering his sandwich, Tom finished chewing before responding. "We saw the same posts your deputy did, stating that Tyler was at Devils Tower yesterday. He hasn't posted any status updates today, and his phone goes directly to voicemail as well. We put a call into the Crook County Sheriff's Office over in Sundance, to let them know we're looking for the kid. We sent them Tyler's picture, but I'm not counting on them being able to find him. He could be anywhere in the Black Hills, and may have already moved on."

"Did you get anything more out of Rich or Joanne when you went with her to the hospital?"

Tom shook his head as he took his own swig of beer. "Both of them still claim to not know where he is or when he'll be back. Rich still believes Tyler was involved, so I think he'd tell us if he had any insight into Tyler's whereabouts. I asked him to call us when Tyler returns home."

"I bet he has your number on speed dial."

Vic looked over at Walt. "Speed dial?"

"Yeah." His brow lifted. "What?"

"Who says that anymore? Everybody has everybody on speed dial, since everyone but you has a cell phone where you can call someone with the press of a button."

Walt grinned. "I've heard of those. Cell phones."

She grinned "I know. You borrow mine, instead of manning up and getting one of your own. Remind me to show you the speed dial feature next time you use it."

Walt laughed before bringing his beer to his lips.

Vic reached out and stole a fry off his plate. Once again his eyebrow lifted. "I thought you wanted a salad instead of fries."

She claimed another, consuming it quickly. "This way I get both."

She picked up the bottle of ketchup from the end of the table, and unscrewed the cap. As the red condiment slowly dripped on to Walt's plate she looked up at him. "And I'm willing to share my salad. I know it would make Molly happy."

Tom laughed from his side of the table, causing a grin to break out on Vic's face.

Walt tried to hide his smile. "I'm not sure it's an even exchange."

Vic shrugged as she concentrated on spearing her fork through a grape tomato. "I'm sure I'll find a way to make it up to you." She froze as she heard her own words, and their suggested meaning, and lifted her head. "Tomorrow...when we're on our way to Billings. I'm sure we'll be stopping for food at some point, and you can steal my fries."

Tom laughed again, but she noticed his eyes flick between the two of them. She didn't know if she wanted to look over at Walt to see if he had noticed.

Diversionary tactics were needed. She leaned in to the table as she swiped another fry. "So tell me Tom, if their burgers are this good, how are their desserts? With all this healthy salad eating, I think I've earned something sweet."

XX

"So what do you think? Do you believe Joanne Daniels? That Tyler isn't capable of going to extremes? Of hurting someone else?"

Beer in one hand, the open file folder in his lap, Walt looked up at her from his seated position on the floor. "I think anyone is capable of violence in the right circumstances."

His long legs were stretched out under his coffee table, the right side of his body leaning against the far end of his couch. She was seated on the other end of the couch, her back against the arm rest, her legs bent, the bottoms of her bare feet on the middle cushion.

She closed her laptop. "So if Tyler is involved, what are the circumstances? Does it have something to do with his dislike of Rich? Of his tough-love approach to how he _motivates_ Tyler? Is the girl the reason? Is the girl involved? And how is Tyler connected to anyone in Durant? We still haven't figured that out."

Placing the folder on the floor, Walt shifted, bringing his right arm to rest along the cushion. His hand landed near her foot.

"We need to find someone who knows Tyler, but is less biased than Joanne or Rich."

"And you think that could be Cody or...what's the other one named?"

"Bryce."

"You think Cody or Bryce, who vouched for him, are going to be less biased?"

"There's a chance. Or, at least they might be able to direct us to someone else who is."

"What do think about the girlfriend, and her potential involvement?"

He took a long sip of beer as he thought about her question, his fingers wrapping around her ankle while he stared across the room at the fireplace. "Do you find it strange that there is no sign of the two of them together online? Don't kids like to publicly document their relationships these days?"

She finished the last sip of her own beer to mask her enjoyment of his touch. "Yeah, it is strange. Especially if they're into the same activities, you'd think there would be more photographic evidence that they were hanging out."

"Well, at least we know that Jessica is another connection point between Tyler and Evan. The dog, and the picture of the girls connect Tyler to Jessica, and the date between Jessica and Evan connects those two."

"And the bike clinic in May connects all three of them."

"Yep." He turned to face her, his gaze steady, before bringing the can to his lips again.

She smiled. "Working here is much better than a late night at the office. Plus, there's beer. Why did we never do this before?"

Walt's hand on her ankle stilled. "This probably wouldn't have been a good idea...before."

Her smile faded. "Probably not."

He held her eyes a little longer and then slowly extracted himself from the floor. He took a step and then reached out. "Want me to take that?"

She handed him the empty can and then watched him make his way into the kitchen, already missing the warmth of his touch. When he arrived at the sink, she turned back around, leaned over and placed her laptop on the coffee table.

A couple minutes passed and then Walt's hand, holding a glass of water, appeared before her. She took the glass from him, and then watched as he sat down at the edge of the cushion, near her hip.

He looked over at her, his eyes softening. "It's late. I should probably take you home."

She held his eyes as she looked over at him. "Or..." She took a sip of water. "You _don't_ take me home." She graced him with a smile.

"Are you planning on walking?"

Her smile grew. "No." Again she took a sip to mask how much she liked his nearness, and how nervous she was that he would turn down her suggestion.

Placing his hand between her side and the back of the couch, he leaned across her mid-section and brought his shoulder to rest on the back cushion as he continued to look over at her. "You're not sick of me yet? It's been over twenty-four hours that we've been together."

She twisted her lips as she pretended to think about it. "Nope. Are you sick of me?"

He took ahold of the hem of the top she was wearing. "Nope."

Her eyes fell to his hand, watching as he played with the edge of her shirt.

After a moment he released the material from his grasp, pulled the glass from her hands and took a sip. "If you stay, it will be at least another fifteen or more hours in my company, since we're heading up to Billings in the morning."

She wrapped her hand around his upper arm, her eyes sliding back to his. "I know."

"You're not going to get sick of me halfway through the drive, when it's too late and you're stuck with me, are you?

She smiled and then shook her head.

He drank again and then leaned over her to place the glass on the end table. She swallowed, and held her breath. When he pulled back, he hovered over her, his eyes locking on hers.

"Do you want to talk about...what's going on between us?"

She let the air she'd been holding out and shook her head. At his arched eyebrow she gave a small smile.

"If we talk we might...I don't want us to talk ourselves out of this."

He continued to look down at her. "What if we _should_ talk ourselves out of this?"

She swallowed again, her mouth feeling dry. "Do _you_ think we should talk ourselves out of this?"

He blinked, but said nothing. She reminded herself to breathe. She saw him suck in his lower lip, and wondered what he was thinking. And then suddenly his face was close to hers. He paused, hovering just above, his breath warm, but his lips still not touching hers. She ran a hand up his arm, and then grasped the fabric near his shoulder. She felt his mouth lightly press against hers. As she moved her hand across his upper back, his lips pressed against hers more firmly, but when she slid her feet across the cushions to straighten her legs across the length of the couch he pulled back.

He looked down at her silently, and then placed his right hand at her side, giving a little tug. She part scooted down, as he part pulled her, until her head rested on the cushion and she was looking up at him.

And then he was sliding on top of her, his legs stretching out between her legs, his chest pressing against hers, his arms on either side.

When his lips found hers this time, there was no hesitation.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his hips and pulled him in closer.

His hand slipped below the hem of her shirt and lay warm against her skin, before sliding up her back.

Pulling her arms from his shoulders, she grabbed his shirt and pulled it from the back of his jeans. When she moved to his chest and unfastened the top two snaps, he pulled back again. She paused, looking up at him, and then sat up, and unsnapped the remainder. He pulled his arms out of the sleeves, and then reached out and pulled her shirt over her head.

She laid back down, and he followed, and the feeling of their skin-to-skin contact made her breath catch. He looked down at her, and tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

She smiled up at him. "_This_ is so much better than a late night at the office. Why didn't we do it sooner?"

His hand at her cheek stilled. "This definitely wouldn't have been a good idea...before."

This time her smile grew. "Probably not."

"Probably? Not definitely?"

She shrugged, her grin intact. "You never know."

He skimmed his thumb across her eyebrow. "No. I guess you don't."

XX

Vic's slowly opened her eyes. She blinked, and then focused, finding herself looking at Walt's chin. Her head lay near his shoulder and the left half of her body covered the left half of his, her right side flush against the back of the couch.

Her right arm was below her, wedged against Walt's side and slightly numb from being in that position for so long. Her left arm was flung across his bare chest, and their legs lay tangled beneath the blanket he must have placed across them at some point during the night.

She wondered what time it was, but was too tired to look for her phone in the pile of clothes on the floor or even to move Walt's arm closer to get a look at his watch. Besides, she was enjoying the position of his left hand across her lower back.

She stared at his face, and then watched his chest rise and fall. She was surprised that she had woken before him, what with him being a morning person and she...well...not being one.

It was then that she heard a sound, and she stilled.

The creak sounded again, and Vic lifted her head, her eyes flying to the front door, which she suddenly realized was open. Standing inside the doorway, propping open the screen door, stood Cady. Frozen where she stood, lips parted, eyes large, and both eyebrows raised in surprise.

Vic started to pull herself up, and then, remembering her state of undress, pulled the blanket covering the lower halves of their bodies up to her chest.

Her movement seemed to jar Cady into motion, who stumbled back, and then turned, letting the screen door close behind her.

"Shit."

Vic pressed her hand into Walt's chest.

"Walt."

He didn't stir.

She tried again, this time shaking his shoulder.

"Walt. Wake up."

"Hmm?" His eyes stayed closed, but his hand ran down her backside.

She pulled herself up, glancing down at their clothes on the floor, and then shook him harder.

"Walt. Cady's here."

As she crawled over him to lean down and pick up her shirt she'd finally spotted, his eyes flew open.

"What?"

Perched on the edge of the couch cushion near his chest, Vic pulled her shirt over her head before leaning over to pick up her underwear. "Cady was standing in the doorway when I woke up. She saw us. Sleeping. Like this." She waved, indicating their nakedness.

Walt bolted up. "Where is she?"

"She ran off the porch, but I didn't hear her jeep start, so I think she's still here."

He swung his legs to the floor as Vic handed him his boxers.

She leaned down again, rounding up his jeans and shirt, and handing them to him as she straightened.

Boxers on, Walt stood and stepped into his jeans. When he started snapping his shirt up, Vic rose to stand before him, her hand coming to rest on his chest.

"It's going to be ok."

As he tucked his shirt into his jeans, he stared back at her with a look that clearly indicated that he did not feel the same way.

She lifted her hand to smooth down his mussed hair, and then let it fall to his upper arm.

His eyes fell to her hand, but then he blinked, pulled away from her grasp, and turned. At the door he bent to pull on his boots.

When he straightened, before he could push open the screen door, Vic placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him toward her.

She brought him in for a deep kiss, and then pulled back holding his face close to hers. "Don't let her freak you out...about this...about us."

His eyes lifted briefly and held hers, and then he stepped back and pushed through the door.

Vic ran her hand across her face. _Shit._


	14. Chapter 14

**Back from vacation and finally able to complete and upload this chapter (working crazy hours + lots of work travel + being sick as a dog + going on vacation without my laptop = slow to write this chapter and get it posted). Thanks for your continued patience and for sticking with this story! Even though my chapter uploads have been spaced further apart, I DO plan to see this story through to the end! Thanks SO much to those who have provided supportive feedback and messages. You continue to keep me motivated.**

* * *

Standing, rooted at the top of the steps, he heard the screen door bang shut behind him. The brisk wind cut through the seams in his shirt, but he didn't turn back for his coat. He knew if he went back in, he might not be able to convince himself to come back out.

Everything felt heavy. His shoulders. His legs. Even his thoughts, which were trying to sort through the situation in which he found himself.

Fumbling was more like it.

He wasn't fully awake, having been jarred from sleep, but he was fully aware of the gravity of the moment.

Wishing he was still in bed, and definitely not looking forward to the conversation he was about to engage in, he forced his foot onto the first step, and then the next, until he made it to the bottom. And then he propelled himself forward, down the path, until he was standing beside the passenger door of the Jeep, looking in.

Cady sat with both hands gripping the steering wheel, staring forward. After a moment, Walt reached out and pulled on the handle. The door was locked.

He rapped on the window. "Cady."

When she didn't move, even to look over at him, he shifted his stance, unsure of what to do next.

Glancing up at the cabin, he saw that Vic had closed the front door to give them their privacy. He pictured her on the other side of that door, willing herself not to go to the window to peer out.

He heard the thunk of the SUV being unlocked and breathed out in relief.

As he slid onto the seat, Cady continued to ignore him, and he churned through ways he could start the conversation, but nothing seemed right. He ran both hands down his thighs, wishing he had his hat, because without it he had nothing to hide behind. He felt exposed.

It was Cady who finally broke the silence.

"So..."

The word was drawn out, as if she were giving herself more time to put her thoughts together, but he suspected she was giving him an opportunity to speak.

When he didn't jump in, she started again. "Vic..."

He remained silent, unsure of exactly how to proceed with the prompt she had given him. His eyes fell on the middle console.

His gaze was pulled upward when Cady lifted her right hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. Her head was now turned slightly toward him, her eyes wide, but unfocused. He wasn't sure if it was shock or anger behind them.

"I..." He stopped and pictured the bottle of whiskey Vic had brought over Friday night. Even though it was barely eight in the morning, he could use some liquid courage right now.

"I didn't mean for you to f..." Again he stopped. She still hadn't looked him in the eyes, and he was beginning to think that even a look of disdain would be better than this.

"I know you don't think Vic and I would be good together, but don't be angry—"

He was cut off as Cady's head whipped his way, her eyes turning steely as she directed them at him.

"You think I'm angry because I don't approve of you being with Vic?"

"Well...uh...you...you said it would be weird if Vic and I..."

"I don't have a problem with Vic. I like Vic. I'm angry..."

Her eyes flashed as she paused and took a breath, her knuckles turning white as her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Her gaze dropped to her lap. "I'm angry...or frustrated...or disappointed...I don't know exactly what...but it's because we can't seem to break the cycle of lying to each other."

She looked over at him. "Or is this you getting payback because I kept my relationship with Branch a secret?"

He cringed and she noticed. "I...this has nothing to do with you not telling me about Branch. And I...I didn't lie to you."

Her eyebrows lifted incredulously. "You lied right to my face. Twice."

"I didn't."

"I was right there in your cabin last weekend, and you told me that you and Vic were not dating. And then at dinner on Wednesday, when I asked you point blank, you said you were not seeing anyone. How is that not lying?"

"I wasn't lying."

Her voice increased in volume. "Dad! You can't deny what I just walked in on! You and Vic are clearly together. Are you denying that?"

Walt blinked as Cady's eyes bore into his. "No."

"Then how was it not a lie when you told me you weren't seeing her?"

"We weren't...Vic and I being together...I wasn't lying at dinner when you asked me."

"So you're just _sleeping_ together, but you're not..._together_, and therefore it's technically not a lie?"

"No. It's not that. What's going on...now...between Vic and me...it's new. Vic was barely talking to me when you and I had dinner on Wednesday. We definitely weren't dating."

"So there was nothing going on between the two of you just days ago...and now..." Her eyes narrowed. "What changed?"

He felt the heat rise up his neck. "Punk, I can't talk about the details with you. You're my daughter."

Her lips flattened as she pressed them together, and then she shifted her gaze out the windshield.

"It's not like you to be casually sleeping with someone...especially with someone you work with." Her eyes flicked over to his for a moment, and then back to the cabin. "Especially with Vic."

He followed her line of sight to his front porch, once again picturing Vic on the other side of the front door. He closed his eyes briefly and remembered her looking back at him last night after he placed the glass of water on the end table. "It's not...casual."

Hearing Cady shift in her seat, he looked up and out the windshield. He could feel her eyes on him, but he refrained from meeting them with his own.

"Dad, why on earth did you tell me to give my co-worker Scott Vic's number if you're in love with her?"

His eyes flashed back to hers. "I'm not..." He paused and then leaned back into the headrest. "I..." He lifted his hand to his forehead. "I never told you to give him Vic's number."

"Yeah, but you didn't ask me not to. You told me to give her number to him if she wanted me to give it to him."

"I didn't have the right...we weren't..." He bowed his head. "I didn't know what we were...and I..." He stopped and looked up at her. "I wanted her to be happy."

"Even if it meant being happy with someone else?"

He arched an eyebrow and then turned to look out the passenger-side window. "If that's what she wanted."

He rubbed his hand across his face, and found her still looking at him when he turned back toward her.

She held his gaze. "Have you told her?"

He raised an eyebrow again.

"That you love her?"

He sucked in on his lower lip but said nothing.

"Dad."

"I wasn't kidding when I said what's going on between us is new."

"I suspect what's going on between you two has been going on for a while."

He opened his mouth to interject, but she put her hand on his arm to cut him off. "I don't mean the sleeping together part. I mean the way you feel about each other part."

"Punk."

"I admit I was shocked when I walked into your place this morning. But as I sat here afterwards I realized I wasn't completely surprised. It hadn't really registered before, but I guess I had noticed...something...between the two of you."

He gripped his knee with his right hand. "Nothing happened between Vic and me...before...when she was married."

Cady held his gaze. "I know, Dad."

Her eyes suddenly grew. "Oh, I just got what you were referring to when you told me at dinner that Vic had things going on, and that I shouldn't ask her who you were seeing." She grinned. "You were the 'stuff' she was dealing with. So what did you do? Why wasn't she talking to you earlier this week?"

Uncomfortable under her scrutiny, Walt averted his gaze.

"Dad. I get it. You weren't lying. You and Vic weren't _together_ last time we talked. But you haven't been completely open with me."

She was looking at him intently.

"She was frustrated because I was...being indecisive. I...I didn't know if I was ready for Vic and me to be...involved. And I..." He dropped his chin. "I didn't know if _you_ were ready for me to be involved with someone."

"You didn't know if _I_ was ready?"

His eyes were back on the Jeep's console when her fingers wrapped around his forearm.

"Dad! I've been trying to get you to tell me if you were seeing someone because I want you to have someone in your life. I want you to be happy."

"But maybe you weren't ready for it to actually be someone specific. For it to be Vic. You said last Saturday that it would be weird if Vic and I—"

"First of all, you don't need my permission. You don't need anybody's permission. You're both single adults."

He returned to staring out the window.

"Second, it doesn't matter what I think. And...I don't really think that. She's not the obvious choice I would have thought of for you. Not because she's wrong for you...you're both just very different. But different doesn't mean bad." She paused as she scanned his face. "And who knows...different may actually be just what you need." She paused again, her eyes trained on him. "So it doesn't matter what I, or anyone else, thinks. It matters how the two of you feel."

She squeezed his arm.

"And she clearly likes you." He turned so his eyes were back on hers. "Again, I'm not referring to the sleeping together part. I'm referring to the fact that she didn't want me to give her number to Scott. She was waiting for you to come around. Right?"

He ran his hand across his jaw but said nothing.

"So what caused you to finally come around?"

He could feel the flush of heat reach his face, and he brought his hand to the back of his neck. "Again, I'm not comfortable talking to you about this."

They returned to staring out the windshield, a beat of silence between them.

"I knocked."

He shifted to look at her. "What?"

"Earlier. I knocked but there was no response. It was early enough you could have still been sleeping, but late enough that you might have been out. I thought I'd let myself in like I've done before."

She looked up at the cabin.

"I came over to get Theresa's pie plate. That's why I was here. Theresa told me on Friday night when she called that she'd left it at your place. I was up and thought I'd come get it before you forgot you had it or put it away somewhere where it couldn't be found."

"Oh."

"I thought I'd just come in quietly to get it. I'd be in and out. I wasn't expecting Vic to be there. There wasn't another car out front suggesting you had a guest over."

He nodded.

"Guess I won't be doing that again. Letting myself in. Wouldn't want a repeat of that...for any of our sakes."

He nodded again. "Probably a good idea." He looked over at her. "Are you going to be able to get that image out of your mind?"

She grimaced. "Nope. Scarred for life."

And then she laughed and the corners of his mouth lifted in response. He looked back at the cabin. "Vic probably won't either."

Cady picked up her phone and unlocked the screen.

He looked down at her hand as she opened her calendar. "What are you doing?"

She grinned. "I'm just doing the math."

"The math?"

"You guys _weren't_ together when we had dinner on Wednesday, and now it's Sunday morning, so that means..."

"Please don't."

"Hmm. I saw each of you at the Pony on Thursday evening. But she left on her own with her carry-out order..."

He placed his hand over hers. "Cady. Stop."

She clicked the phone off, her smile growing. Her eyes held on him for a moment. "Let's start over."

He paused. "Ok."

She tried to wipe the grin from her face. "So..."

He pushed back in his seat and crossed his arms, his head turned toward her.

Her eyebrow darted upward. "Vic..."

"Yep?"

"You two dating?"

He paused again. "It's complicated."

She smacked his shoulder. "Dad!"

He smiled as he ducked his head.

XX

As he approached the kitchen, he found Vic pacing in front of the counter. She was fully dressed, with her hair up in a loose ponytail. The coffeemaker, which was on, was dripping steadily, the rich aroma filling the air. He stopped in the entrance, and leaned his right side into the door jamb, taking her in.

Sensing his presence, she stopped in her tracks and turned, her eyes meeting his. Pulling her shoulders back, she straightened, her nostrils slightly flaring. She looked as if she was preparing herself for bad news.

Her mouth twisted as she ran her hand along her ponytail. "Cady's probably a little freaked out."

He didn't know if she'd meant that to be a question, but without waiting for his response she began pacing across the floor again. "But...she'll get over the shock...eventually. And just because we're all a little thrown by her...finding out...the way she did...we shouldn't let that change anything."

She paused, her lips once again pursing. Her hesitation was only momentary. His eyes darted back and forth following her movement across the floor.

The coffee stopped dripping, and Vic halted in her path, before turning away from him. She pulled the carafe from the machine and began pouring the coffee into a cup next to it. Walt's eyes drifted to the counter, where he found two additional mugs. He smiled, unsure whether Vic had been optimistic about Cady joining them for breakfast, or hedging her bets, not wanting to make Cady feel unwelcome should she have entered the cabin with him.

When she began to pour a second cup, Walt stepped forward and opened the fridge, pulling out the milk. He walked over to the counter and handed the carton to her.

Her eyes holding his, she paused and then took it from him. "Thanks."

While she poured the milk into her cup, he reached up, opened the cabinet door, and pulled the package of sugar from the shelf. Placing it on the counter, he nudged Vic to the side, and then took a spoon from the drawer she'd been standing in front of. He measured the scoops out, one at a time, and added each to her coffee, before dropping the spoon into the liquid and stirring.

When he was done, he handed the coffee to her and then placed the spoon in the sink. Wrapping his fingers around the other cup she'd filled, he rotated, so his back was against the counter, and looked over at her. She had her mug to her lips, and was watching him over the rim. He liked her slightly disheveled look.

He raised his own cup to take a sip.

Lowering her mug, she took a few steps, pivoted and took a few more.

"I know Cady has her concerns. Yes, there's a seventeen-year age difference between us, but I don't feel it most of the time...or think that it's a problem at all. And yes, there's a shitload of things that make us different, but I don't care about all that. I told you before that I want to be with someone who makes me happy. I want to be with someone I want. I feel a connection with you that..." She paused, her gaze shifting away from him. "Those differences don't matter."

He placed his cup on the counter, his eyes never leaving her as she paced in front of him.

"And the fact that we work together, and the potential that our involvement could impact your judgement, or result in unfair preference, or at least the appearance of it, or put me in danger, or distract you on the job, or result in our personal life bleeding into our professional one if we have an argument...some of those things you'll make sure don't happen. We'll both make sure. And some of those things will likely happen regardless of whether we're involved...some of them have already happened...and we've shown that we work well together despite all that. This week was proof. We did good work even when things were kind of shitty between us and when things got...personal."

She suddenly came to a stop, her coffee almost spilling. Remaining still, their gazes locked, he watched her briefly and then took the mug from her hand and placed it on the counter next to his.

She blinked. "So...did she disown you?"

"I thought only parents could disown their children, not the other way around."

Her head cocked slightly to the side. "You know what I mean."

"Nope. She's still acknowledging that I'm her father."

"Was she pissed?"

"A bit."

Her eyebrows slanted upward. "Because she doesn't approve?"

"Nope."

"She didn't list all the reasons we shouldn't be involved?"

"Nope."

He was treated to an incredulous stare. "Really?"

"She says I can be in a relationship with whomever I want."

"Relationship?"

He paused, momentarily thrown, but kept his eyes on hers, and then widened the space between his legs so she could stand between them.

Placing her hand on his chest, she seemed to be contemplating what had just been said. She looked distractingly good first thing in the morning.

"Then why was she mad?"

He glanced over her shoulder, into the front room. "She was rather partial to my couch. Apparently we ruined that for her."

Vic snorted as she gripped his shirt between the fingers. "Shut up. Don't joke about that. You're not the one who had to wake up and see Cady's wide-eye stare. Try having that visual burned into your memory."

"No thanks."

"So really, why was she mad?"

"She thought I'd been holding back...lying...about us. That this...that we...had been going on for a while and I was keeping it from her."

She played with one of the snaps on his shirt. "It probably didn't help the situation that she kept Branch a secret and that you were pissed when you found out."

"Nope."

She took another step into him, her face close, but then her eyes widened and she pulled back.

"Wait. Why did you let me go on and on, making those arguments regarding why the things she's probably concerned about don't matter if she didn't bring any of that up?"

"You were on a roll. I didn't want to stop you."

She pursed her lips.

The corners of his mouth turned upwards. She might take offense if he admitted that he found it comforting that she'd been as nervous as he had regarding the outcome of his conversation with Cady. Or if he revealed how attractive he found her when she was revved up about something.

"And I wanted to hear what you had to say." At her arched eyebrow, he continued. "You didn't want to talk about...us...last night...and I wanted to hear where you stood on things."

Her hands slid into her back pockets.

"And where do _you_ stand on things?"

_Have you told her? That you love her?_

Cady's words still echoed in his thoughts.

"I..." His gaze fell to his right hand which he ran along the edge of the counter. "I'm coming around."

She stepped back. "What does that mean?"

"It means..." He looked up, and got lost in her eyes for a moment.

He shook his head slightly to get a hold of his thoughts. "It means...I'm concerned about all the things you listed."

He saw her eyes widen, her lips part, her nostrils flare. She took another step back, but before she could move further away, he reached out, grabbed the waistband of her jeans and tugged her toward him.

He pushed himself away from the counter and straightened. She looked up at him, the uncertainty evident in her eyes.

Standing toe to toe, with nothing touching except his hand grasping her belt loop, he looked down at her. "I'm not pulling back...from what's going on between us. I'm just telling you I have concerns that will likely always be there."

His thumb grazed the bare skin at her waist. "But I'm working through them."

He saw her temple pulse.

"That was me making the next move on Friday. I haven't changed my mind about...moving forward. But...you'll need to be patient with me."

Standing so close, he could see every eyelash. He'd watched her eyes so many times but had never permitted himself to really look. Until now.

"Ok?"

She blinked, her eyes still conveying her concern with where things stood. And then she blinked again, her gaze softening. "Ok."

He leaned in. "I'm sorry this morning's been so chaotic. That's not how I wanted Cady to find out." He took a breath. "And that's not how I wanted to wake up with you."

She pressed up and smiled. "Well, then you need to take away your daughter's keys."

Inching in closer, he laughed. "She will not be letting herself in again."

Her eyes danced. "I hope not." Her statement was a warm whisper against his lips. And then she grabbed his shirt near the top snap and tugged down as he slipped his fingers into her waistband.

XX

Vic's head was bent over her phone.

"Ok. It looks like we need to head that way." She pointed across the parking lot at a red-brick building. "That should be McMullen Hall in front of us. And on the other side of McMullen, across campus, should be Petro Hall, where the boys live."

It was a crisp day. Blue sky. Slight breeze. Patches of autumn colors across the tree-lined campus.

Walt closed his door, and crossed in front of the Bronco to join her. When they reached the sidewalk, she slid her phone into her pocket and looked up at him as they walked.

He looked down at her curiously. "What?"

She quickly turned away. "Nothing."

He continued to look at her until she looked back up. "I was just trying to picture you as a college student on campus."

"Oh yeah? And how do you see me?"

"I was trying to decide if you wore a hat back then."

"And?"

"I'm guessing not, since you went to school in California. Maybe a baseball cap."

He grinned at her accuracy.

"But I'm guessing the rest was the same. Jeans, long-sleeve button-down, and your boots. Maybe a t-shirt when it was warmer or when you weren't in class." Her smile broadened. "Did you even own a pair of shorts?"

He laughed. "Yep. Maybe even two pairs."

"I need to see a picture of you in those."

Walt looked back down at her as they rounded the side of McMullen. "There is no photographic evidence that I wore them."

"You might not have any, but someone, somewhere, does. And I have mad investigative skills when it comes to stuff like that."

He laughed again. "I bet you do."

She still had her head turned up toward him.

"Now what are you picturing?"

"I'm trying to imagine what kind of student you were."

"And, what kind of student was I?"

She pursed her lips for a moment. "Studious. Disciplined. Someone who knew their priorities, and put them first."

He watched a girl dash across the path in front of them to join her friends. "And what were my priorities back then?"

"School. Football. Family. Friends."

He glanced her way, and then saw a smile spread across her face. "Oh, and girls. They were probably a pretty big deal for you too."

He grinned as he looked down the sidewalk. "Although they'd probably say that I gave them attention only in the early stages."

She laughed. "The girls didn't hold your attention compared to your other priorities?"

He looked back over at her. "Very few have."

She held his gaze a moment, her eyes twinkling, before glancing up at the tree branches above them. "I bet you missed Wyoming's fall season when you were at USC. It sure is gorgeous out here at this time of year."

His steps faltered. "Did you just compliment Wyoming?"

"Well, right now I'm complimenting Montana, since we're in Billings, but yeah, I like autumn in Wyoming as well."

Coming to a stop, he kept looking at her.

"What?"

"I've never heard you say something favorable about living out here."

Her eyes on his, one corner of her mouth turned upward. "I wouldn't still be here if there wasn't something I liked about this place."

"So...autumn. That's why you stayed?"

She blinked. "Yep. Autumn."

He studied her closely. "Is that enough to keep you here the other three quarters of the year?"

She shrugged. "There may be one or two other reasons I stayed."

They stood, eyes locked. He lifted his hand, and tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear. He suddenly realized he wanted to be one of those reasons she'd stayed. And he realized that it scared the hell out of him. Her staying because of him. The responsibility that came with that fact. He considered sharing that with her. All of it. But the laughter from a group of students somewhere behind him reminded him that they were in a public place, and he dropped his hand and took a step back.

"Omar?"

She blinked. "Omar?"

"Is Omar one of your other reasons for staying?"

She looked oddly at him for a moment and then her eyes crinkled. "Yes, definitely Omar. How would I get that level of attention anywhere else?"

She began walking again, but looked over her shoulder at him. "And of course there's the prospect of maybe, someday, seeing you in these elusive shorts you mentioned."

XX

They heard the laughter before they even reached the room, and arrived to find the door slightly ajar. Vic's knock, however, elicited no response. She looked up at Walt and then tried again.

When she again received no response, she reached out and pushed the door further open. "Hello?"

Standing in the doorway, they found themselves looking down at three boys. One of the boys was sprawled across the bed to their left. The other two sat on cushions on the floor, leaning against the bed on which the first boy was perched. All three were ignoring them, trained on the video game the two on the floor were playing.

Vic glanced between the three. "Is one of you Cody Pierce?"

Eyes glued on the monitor, the boy on the bed raised his hand.

"And Bryce Sullivan?"

"Yep." The response came from the boy on the floor closer to the door, but he didn't look up.

"We're with the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department."

The boys kept their focus on the game.

"This is Sheriff Longmire. I'm Deputy Moretti."

Again the boys seemed unable to tear their eyes away from the screen.

"And we're here to talk to the two of you regarding one of our investigations."

Not one of the boys turned their way.

Vic gave Walt her 'what the hell?' look.

Walt stepped into the room, his eyes lingering on Cody for a moment. The boy was wearing grey cargo pants, and a dark green t-shirt that read _Climbing State of Mind_. Walt glanced up at the wall behind Cody's head.

"Is that Alex Honnold?"

Cody looked at the poster in question and then back at Walt. "You know who Alex Honnold is?"

"You think I'm too old to know who Alex Honnold is?"

He tucked his chin length hair behind his ear as he gave Walt a once-over. "Just didn't know you were into climbing."

Walt stepped further into the room, scanning the walls and bookshelves. "Are these posters and pictures all yours?"

Cody shook his head. "My room is three doors down." He pointed to Bryce. "Most of the posters are Sully's". He then leaned forward and knocked the baseball cap off the third boy's head, which elicited a 'Dude!' from his friend. "But his roommate Mac here has been contributing. Sully and I have been getting him into climbing."

Mac leaned to the side to pick up his hat. "I think the only reason they let me tag along is because I am good with a camera."

Cody grinned, as he pointed to a few photos on the wall that Mac must have taken. "Of course it's not the _only_ reason."

Walt leaned closer to the wall to look at the pictures. "These are good."

He shifted his head to look over at Cody. "What climbs have you done recently?"

"We just got back from Devils Tower."

"Oh yeah? Which routes did you do?"

"Soler. And El Matador."

"What are their ratings?"

Cady looked over at Bryce. "Sully, you remember what Soler and El Matador are rated?"

Bryce deftly maneuvered his character on screen before responding. "Uh...I think Soler is a 5.9 and El Matador is a 5.10."

Walt nodded. "Impressive. You must be experienced climbers."

Cody shrugged. "Sure."

Walt glanced around the room again, surprised by how organized and clutter-free it was. "Where do you keep your racks and the rest of your gear when you're at school?"

Cody clapped Bryce on the shoulder. "The trunk of Sully's car."

"All three of you go to Devils Tower this weekend?"

Without looking up, Mac chimed in. "I didn't go. Those climbs are too advanced for me."

"So, just the two of you went?"

Bryce looked at him. "Us and four others."

"Other MSUB students?"

Bryce's attention returned to the game. "Some, but not all. They're from this outdoor club we're part of."

Vic crossed in front of the boys, and pulled out a chair from behind one of the desks. "You guys been in this outdoor group for a while?"

Bryce looked over at her. "The Trailhead club?"

Vic nodded.

Cody crossed his legs beneath him as he sat up. "Sully and I joined a couple months ago."

Vic sat down in the chair. "How did you guys get involved in the group?"

Cody gestured toward the open door. "There's a sophomore, Mattie, who lives down the hall. He saw our posters in our rooms and invited Sully and me to one of their events when we first started school."

Vic looked around the room. "I'm surprised you're living in a dorm. Wouldn't you have more freedom living in an apartment off campus?"

Cody nodded as if he agreed. "You're required to live in the dorms as a freshman."

Glancing at the bookshelf that ran horizontally across the wall behind her, she settled on a group of photographs. A smile growing on her lips, she looked back over at Cody. "Did you take any pictures this weekend?" Walt recognized the smile she was giving the kid.

The smile did its job. Cody scrambled off the bed and grabbed his phone off the desk. Walt walked over to stand at Vic's side. She scooted her chair closer to the bed as Cody scrolled through some pictures before passing her the device. Walt looked over her shoulder as Cody pointed down at the picture on the screen. "Kapoor was fearless yesterday."

He swiped to the next picture. "Nova almost slipped here, but managed to hold on."

He swiped again. "Daniels and Greenberg were partnered up. Sometimes I'm not sure which one is crazier."

Vic looked up at Walt before turning back to Cody.

"So Tyler was with you this weekend?"

"Daniels? Yeah." He looked between them. "Is that why you're here? We already told the cops last weekend that Daniels was with us when we hiked on Saturday."

Vic watched him closely. "He was with you the whole day?"

"We only went in the morning, but he was with us the whole time. We got up at the crack of dawn and then finished at noon. The weather was crappy."

Cody brought up a picture of him, Bryce, Tyler and two other kids to prove his point. They were soaked head to foot.

Vic stared down at the picture. "Did you guys go back out when the weather cleared?"

"The weather was bad through Sunday. It got better Monday morning, and since we had the day off, a group of us hit the trail again." Cody leaned over and flipped through a few pictures from their hike.

"Was Tyler with you on Monday?"

"No. I think he went hiking solo in Wyoming somewhere."

"How long has Tyler been in the Trailhead group?"

"A couple years, at least. He said he joined when he was in high school."

Vic advanced to the next picture before looking up. "How well do you know him?"

"I don't know. I guess we've seen him every weekend since we joined the group. But we don't really hang out with him outside the events that are planned.

"Is he a good climber?"

"Yeah. He's kind of a nut about everything we do. Super focused. Super in-shape."

She brought her attention back to the picture on the phone, her voice casual. "Has he ever mentioned anyone that he's had a particular beef with?"

"Uh...not that I can think of."

"We've heard his mother's boyfriend can be a real asshole. Has Tyler ever talked about him?"

"Uh...I've heard how he talks with him on the phone. The guy seems to get on Daniels' case about telling his mom when he'll be home and about getting his life together. Daniels never talks about his relationship with him, though."

"Does he ever mention anybody from his hometown? Anyone that he's friends with? Or pissed with?"

"Not really."

"Have you seen him get angry?"

"Sure. He loses it from time to time."

This time, when she looked up, her expression was serious. "Has he ever hurt anyone when he's gotten angry?"

"You mean like hit someone?"

Vic nodded.

Cody shifted. "Uh...no."

Mac turned toward them. "Well, there was that time that he got pissed and held one of the guys from the club off the side of a boulder."

Vic turned toward Mac. "What happened? Why did he get pissed?"

Cody laughed. "He didn't really hold him off the side. Daniels found out this other kid, Mahler, was behind some prank that was played on one of the new members of the group. Daniels grabbed him roughly by the arm when they were both standing near the edge of a boulder. I think he was just trying to get his attention and share that he was pissed."

"What was the prank?"

Cody's brow furrowed as he turned toward the other two. "Do either of you remember?" Bryce and Mac both shook their head. "It was nothing crazy, but I don't remember what it was specifically."

"Did he hurt the other kid?"

"No. Daniels' intensity probably scared the crap out of Mahler, but he was never in any danger."

"And Tyler's actions didn't cause any problems between himself and the group?"

"Nah. In general, we're all pretty laid back. Just intense about the sports we do, but a good community overall."

Cody looked her up and down. "Have you ever climbed before?

Vic laughed. "Me? Hell no! I'm from Philly. We do sports that involve balls and bats and sticks. The only pain inflicted comes from someone else's hip check, tackle or well-aimed fist. None of this life-or-death craziness."

Cody laughed

She looked up at the posters. "What do you find so great about climbing? I don't get what all the fuss is about."

Cody edged closer to the side of the mattress. "It's about the challenge. The puzzle. No two climbs are the same."

Vic pointed over to Walt. "You should see this guy problem solve on the side of a cliff. For one of our cases, a girl had fallen, and the quickest way to get to her was to rappel down the side. We had a rope, but didn't have a harness or carabiners with us like you guys use. So the Sheriff used his belt and his handcuffs."

"Ouch! Dude. The rope burn!"

"I know! I said the same thing to him."

"Did he rescue the girl?"

She cast a look Walt's way, her eyes bright. "Yep. He picked her up, handcuffed her around his neck, and brought her back up the same way he got down. Saved her life."

Three pairs of eyes looked at him with newly gained respect, the video game temporarily forgotten.

Walt leaned back against the desk. "Any girls in your Trailhead group?"

Cody grinned. "Yes! One of the other perks of all this outdoor stuff. It's co-ed."

Scratching the back of his neck, Walt surveyed the three. "Do you guys know a Jessica Suarez?"

Cody ran his hand through his hair. "Jess? Sure. She's in the club too. She lives one floor up."

Walt's hand dropped to his lap. "In this dorm?"

"Yeah. She's above us and two rooms over, that way." He pointed to the opposite wall.

"Are Jessica and Tyler dating?"

Cody looked over at his friends, before looking back at Walt. "Jess and Daniels? No."

"Did they use to go out? Maybe before you joined the Trailhead club?"

Again the boys looked at each other before Cody answered. "Not that we know of. At least no one has mentioned that they did."

"Are the two of them friends?"

Cody shrugged. "They know each other but I've never seen the two of them hang out."

"Does Jessica have a dog?"

"I don't know...wait...yes. She brought a dog with her a few weeks back when we went camping."

"If she lives in the dorm, where does her dog stay?"

"Uh...beats me. Maybe her parents live nearby."

"Has Tyler ever taken care of her dog?"

Cody's brows knotted in confusion. "Daniels? Why would he do that?"

"Something you do for a friend."

Again he shrugged. "He never mentioned it if he did."

"He didn't have the dog with him this weekend?"

"Daniels? No. You can't bring pets to Devils Tower anyway."

"Do you guys know where Tyler is now?"

Three shakes of the head. "No."

"Did he drive back with you?"

Cody shook his head. "He took off before we woke up this morning."

"And he didn't say where he was going?"

"Nope."

"Is that usual...for Tyler to just take off?"

Cody leaned back on his elbows. "He follows his own schedule sometimes."

Walt looked directly at each of the boys, one by one. "Anything else you can think of to share about Tyler?"

Cody squinted and then shook his head. "Nope." The others shook their heads as well.

Walt looked over at Vic, and then straightened.

"Well, we know you have a video game to get back to. Thanks for talking to us."

Cody stood, his eyes on Vic as she did the same. "If you ever want to learn how to climb, let us know."

She smiled as they made their way to the door. "I'll keep that in mind."

Cody gestured toward Walt. "Unless you want to learn from 'handcuffs and rope burn' over here."

She laughed out loud as Walt stepped into the hall. Vic waved goodbye to the three boys and then joined Walt. As he closed the door behind them, she stood stationary looking up at him.

"What?"

"Since when do you know stuff about rock climbing?"

He smiled as he began walking. "Henry and I used to go climbing when we were teenagers. Of course the sport wasn't as big back then as it is now."

"And then you just stopped?"

"Who said I stopped?"

She looked taken aback. "Oh...well…I wasn't aware that you climbed...you've never mentioned it."

"We cut back when we were in our early twenties?"

"Lost interest?"

"I became a father."

"Oh. Right." She nodded in understanding. "Have you been climbing since?"

"I go from time to time."

When they reached the stairway he stopped and she turned, two steps up, to look at him over her shoulder.

"What?"

"I could teach you to climb."

"Using your handcuffs and belt?"

"No. The real way."

She looked down at him. "Ok."

He joined her on her step and then the two began climbing the remaining stairs. "We can add it to the list."

She craned her neck to look up at him. "What list?"

"The list of activities you still need to experience."

A small grin lit her lips. "What else is on this list?"

"Camping."

"I've been camping. I told you. When I was a kid."

They reached the top of the stairs and he paused. "That wasn't camping."

"It wasn't?"

He started walking down the hallway, looking at the room numbers on the doors. "Nope. It's not camping unless the people who take you camping are campers at heart, and not just doing an activity that they think they should do with their kids a couple times. Plus...you were likely somewhere in Pennsylvania. The experience wouldn't even come close to camping in Wyoming. Therefore...not camping."

"And would you be the 'camper at heart' who would be accompanying me?"

He glanced down the hall at her. "If Henry's not available...sure."

She laughed. "What else is on the list?"

"A Durant High School football game."

"Right." She smiled. "Do you think Henry's up for bringing me to that too?"

He grinned, as he returned to looking at the doors. "And dinner."

"I've had dinner since being in Wyoming."

He paused. "I meant with me."

She looked over at him. "We've been to dinner before."

"That wasn't dinner."

She smiled. "It wasn't?"

He stopped in front of a door, found Jessica's name listed and knocked. "Those were meals during working hours."

The door suddenly swung open, and a petite girl with long brown hair looked up at him. She was wearing a Yellowjackets hooded sweatshirt in the school's blue and yellow colors.

Walt towered over her. "Jessica Suarez?"

"Uh...yes."

He stepped back so Vic could join his side. "Cody Pierce told us you lived here. I'm Sheriff Longmire, and this is Deputy Moretti. Could we talk to you for a moment?"

"Um..."

He took a step further back. "We could go down to a common area in the dorm, if that would make you more comfortable."

She glanced between the two of them, and then stepped back. "No, it's ok. You can come in."

He followed Vic into the room, taking in the decor. Like the boys' room, her walls were covered in posters and pictures of various outdoor activities. But, with only one bed against the wall to their left, it looked like Jessica lived in a single.

"Sorry for the mess." Jessica bent over and picked up a pile of clothes and then dropped them on the couch.

Walt watched Vic start to scan the contents of the room out of the corner of his eye as he turned toward the girl. "We understand that you know Tyler Daniels."

"Uh...yeah. We're in this Trailhead outdoor club together."

"Are you two friends?"

"Uh...yes."

"Are the two of you dating?"

"Dating? No."

"Did you ever date before?"

"Uh…no."

Over Jessica's shoulder, Walt saw a face he recognized in a photograph on the wall.

"You know Evan Brandt."

Her brows lifted, as she turned to look at the picture. "Yeah. He was a senior here last year. He and his brother led a bike clinic for the Trailhead group this past May where this picture was taken."

"Did you ever hang out with Evan outside of this bike clinic?"

Jessica shifted under his gaze. "We went out once, but..."

"But?"

Staring off to the side, she pulled on one side of the string to her hood. "But I guess he wasn't interested. We didn't go out again."

"Was Tyler at that bike clinic that Evan and his brother led?"

Her eyes refocused on Walt's. "Uh...probably. It was toward the end of last school year, so I don't remember everyone who came, but we had a good showing and Tyler goes to most events."

Vic, who was standing in front of the desk staring at a framed picture on Jessica's bookshelf, called out. "Is this your dog?"

Without glancing at the desk, Jessica sat down on her couch, next to the pile of clothes. "Yeah. That's Bear."

Vic looked at Jessica over her shoulder. "Your dog's name is Bear?"

She nodded. "I've had him since I was twelve..." There was a catch in her voice. "My parents said he got out..."

Vic looked back at the picture. "Your dog is missing?"

Pulling both hands into her sleeves, Jessica nodded.

"Since when?"

"Since last Sunday."

"Have you ever let Tyler take care of Bear?"

Jessica's forehead creased in confusion. "Tyler?"

"Yes."

"Take care of Bear?"

Vic picked up the picture. "Has he ever watched your dog for a period of time?"

"No. Bear lives with my parents."

"Does Tyler know you have a dog?"

Jessica stared down, her thumbs now protruding through the thumb holes in her sleeves. "The only time Tyler would have seen Bear is a few weeks ago when I brought him on our camping trip. Although...I guess I've talked about him before."

"Do you ever drive around with Bear in the back of a truck?"

Her head snapped up. "God no! I would never do that. That's cruel!"

"When was the last time you saw Tyler?"

She looked to the side in thought. "A couple weeks ago." She looked between them. "Why all these questions about Tyler? Has something happened to him?"

Adjusting his hat from one hand to the other, Walt shifted his weight to his other leg. "We're investigating Tyler's potential involvement in one of our cases. Some boys were seriously injured earlier this week."

"And you think Tyler hurt them?"

"We don't know. Do you think it possible that Tyler could be involved in something like that? Have you ever seen him get overly angry, or take things to extremes?"

Again she looked between them. "He's intense...and I've seen him get angry, but no, I haven't seen him do anything like that." She paused. "Did Tyler have something to do with Bear disappearing? Is that why you were asking about him?"

Vic's eyes slid to Walt before she stepped forward. "We're looking into that as well."

Vic took a few more steps toward Jessica and then sat down next to her on the couch. "When did you join the Trailhead club?"

"Early in my freshman year. A little over a year ago."

"Who in the club do you think knows Tyler the best?"

She paused, her eyes cast down to the floor. "I don't think anybody _really_ knows Tyler."

"Why is that?"

"I think I got a small glimpse of the _real_ Tyler earlier this year, and I think he's different than how he presents himself."

"What do you mean?"

"We were camping late this spring, and there was a point where it was just the two of us at the campfire. He seemed preoccupied...a little distraught. I asked him what was wrong but he said it was nothing. When I reached out and put my hand on his arm he looked up at me with this expression in his eyes I hadn't seen before."

"What kind of expression?"

"Normally Tyler has two modes. He's energetic, and fully focused and engaged in the activities we're doing. He can be very convincing. He comes up with these ideas of things to do, and convinces others to join him. But at the same time he has this wall up. He kind of keeps everyone at a distance. He's not stand-offish. Just...separate. But he looked at me with these big eyes. It was the first time I saw how vulnerable he was. He's usually so confident, or at least comes off that way. And I took his hand and we just sat there like that until the others returned."

"And he never said why he was upset or brought it up since then?"

"No. Actually, he's been more distant recently. He acted kind of weird for much of the summer, but eventually seemed to get over whatever it was. Two weeks ago he was in the dorm, dropping off a few of the guys after one of the Trailhead outings I couldn't attend, and he stopped by my room. He was trying to convince me to go hiking with them the next weekend, but I already had plans to visit a high school friend at the University of Montana since we had an extra day off for Columbus Day. When I picked my backpack off the floor and looked up at him, he was just standing there staring blankly at me. It was really weird. And then he suddenly said he had to go...and just...left. I haven't talked to or seen him since."

"Do you know where Tyler is right now?"

"I know he was going climbing with some of the guys from the club at Devils Tower this weekend, but I'm guessing you already talked to Cody, since he told you which room I lived in. I take it they don't know where he is right now?"

"They said Tyler took off early this morning without telling them where he was going."

"Sounds like Tyler."

"Has he ever mentioned anywhere specific he likes to go when he's by himself?"

"He does a lot of hikes by himself, and this summer he got into free soloing. But I can't think of a specific place he likes to go."

"What is free soloing?"

"It's rock climbing without any of the safety equipment. No ropes. No harness. No climbing partner."

Vic looked up at Walt before meeting Jessica's eyes again. "That sounds crazy—"

"And therefore right up Tyler's alley. You present a challenge to him, and he'll want to tackle it." Jessica paused and then stood. "Do you think Tyler really did what you're investigating him for?"

Walt watched her closely. He remembered Tom Haskill's words to Joanne Daniels. "We either want to prove that he didn't, or get him the help he needs if he did. If...if you think of anything else that might be important for us to know, please give us a call."

Vic stood and handed Jessica her a card with the station's contact information.

At the door Walt turned. "Thanks for your time Jessica."

Jessica nodded as she stared down at the card in her hands. "Can...can you let me know if you learn anything about Bear?"

Walt nodded. "We will."

Vic stepped out of the room, and then, after a pause, Walt followed, shutting the door behind him. They walked in silence down the hallway.

When they reached the stairway, Vic let out a sigh. "So...Tyler plans this whole robbery scheme. Then, last Saturday he goes hiking with Cody, Bryce and other members of the Trailhead club so that he has an alibi while the stores in Sheridan are being robbed. On Sunday, while Jessica is out of town, he goes to her parents' place in Livingston and takes her dog, Bear, and then proceeds to drive down to Durant with him. The stores in Durant are robbed on Monday while he's spotted around town before going off hiking, with Bear in tow, and then he returns to Sheridan briefly before heading out to Devils Tower with five members of the Trailhead group, but without the dog."

Her lips pursed in thought. "We still don't have motive. We still don't know who his accomplice is. Clearly it's not Jessica because she was in Missoula visiting her friend at U of M, last weekend. And we have no idea why he took Jessica's dog."

"Yeah, but we've learned a little more about Tyler."

"But is any of it of use to us?"

They descended the final step, and were starting to turn to take the next flight down when Cody entered the stairway.

"Hey Deputy 'Philly' and Sheriff 'Handcuffs and Rope Burn!'"

Walt turned to face Cody. "Where are you headed?"

"We totally forgot to eat when we got back, so I'm going to grab us a pizza."

Out of the corner of his eye, Walt saw Vic wander into the hallway.

"Did you get to talk to Jess?"

Attention back on Cody, Walt rested his hand on his belt. "We did. But she didn't know where Tyler is. She said he likes to go hiking by himself, as well as free solo, but didn't know where he went today. Do you know of any usual places Tyler likes to go?"

"Nah. He likes to go to new places all the time."

"Hey Cody."

Both Cody and Walt turned toward Vic. "Yep?"

She was just outside the stairway, standing in front of a bulletin board of photographs. "What are these pictures from?"

"Those are pictures of the students who live in this dorm."

Hands on her hips, she leaned in closer, looking at photos in the top left corner of the board. "Tyler is in one of these pictures. Was he visiting someone in the dorm?"

"Some of those pictures are from last year. It's probably a picture from when he lived in the dorm."

Her head spun in their direction. "Tyler lived in Petro Hall?"

"Yep. Last year."

"I..." She looked over at Walt, the confusion evident in her eyes. "I thought Tyler didn't go on to college after high school. That he was taking a year off."

"He _is_ taking a year off. This year. He was a freshman here last year."

"He went to MSUB for a year?"

"Yep."

"Do you know why he dropped out?"

"To focus on climbing, biking and such."

"Do you think that's the real reason?"

"I heard he had been making plans for his sophomore year...like he was coming back. He and Mattie were going to get a place together off-campus, and then apparently Daniels suddenly pulled out, saying school wasn't for him right now. That he wanted to give his undivided attention to the trails. Mattie ended up taking a single here in Petro."

"Mattie? He's the one who got you in to the Trailhead group?"

"Yep."

Vic paused as she continued to scan the pictures, and then she turned, her eyes wide as she found Walt's. She tapped a picture before looking over at Cody. "Is Mattie a nickname?"

"Yep. Short for Matthews."

"Is his full name Dylan Matthews?"

"Yep."

"But you call him Mattie?"

"Yep. Just like we use 'Sully' for Bryce because his last name is Sullivan."

Walt saw Vic briefly close her eyes, her jaw tensing. He stepped forward. "Where is Dylan's room?"

Cody turned toward him. "He lives on this floor. At the other end."

Taking a deep breath, Vic pulled her shoulders back and then started to take steps in the direction Cody had directed them.

"But you won't find him in."

She stopped and turned. "Why not?"

"He went home for the weekend."

"To Durant?"

"If that's where he from, then yes."

Walt looked down at his watch. "Do you know when he was planning to get back to campus?"

"Not until tonight, I think."

"Are Dylan and Tyler friends?"

"Well, enough friends that they had planned to be roommates. I have no idea if they hang out together outside our weekend activities."

"Have they been getting along lately?"

"Yeah. I think so. Mattie hasn't joined us the last few weeks, but things seemed fine between them before that."

Walt looked over at Vic.

Cody pointed down the stairs. "Is it ok if I go? The guys are starving."

Walt nodded. "Yep. Thanks Cody."

"Sure."

Cody bounded down the steps. Walt waited for him to be out of sight before turning toward Vic. "Well, there's our connection between Tyler and Durant." He looked down the hallway. "Do we head back to Durant and hope Dylan hasn't left? Or do we stay here and wait for him?"

Vic pulled out her phone to check the time as she ground the sole of her boot into the floor. "If we leave now, we could be back between 3:45 and 4:00. If he truly isn't planning to come back to Billings until tonight, then he's likely still there. We could have Branch bring him in while we're on our way back."

They looked at each other, and then in unspoken agreement, dashed down the stairs, out the front door of the dorm, and across the lawn toward the parking lot.

They pulled up when they reached the Bronco. Walt searched through his pockets for his keys as Vic bent over, both breathing hard.

"I am literally going to strangle those boys. I won't be surprised if all six of them know each other in the end, even though they started off saying they didn't." Straightening, she looked over the hood. "You know what, I say we bring all seven of them into the station, lock them in the cell together, and let them stay that way until we find out how each of them knows each other. I'm tired of all this bullshit!"

He unlocked the door and they both climbed in.

Vic looked over at him. "If Tyler and Dylan are friends, why would Tyler orchestrate a robbery of the hardware store where his friend works?"

Walt looked behind him as he backed his truck out of the spot. "Don't forget the robbery of Ace Hardware wasn't like the other robberies. The cashier didn't get hurt. And no money was taken. Just the duct tape."

"So you think Dylan was involved? And that maybe he committed the other robberies, and then he and Tyler 'robbed' the Ace Hardware so that Dylan wouldn't be considered a suspect?"

"It's possible." Walt shifted the Bronco into drive, staring out the windshield as he thought through the details of the case.

After a moment Vic looked over at him. "Of course, Dylan _couldn't_ have committed the other robberies. He's on the video recording from Ace Hardware when the robberies were taking place."

"Yep. That just occurred to me too."

"So we're back to being nowhere, like we were when we learned about the other connections between these boys."

"Maybe. But not necessarily. This is the first relationship we've confirmed between Tyler and one of the other boys. Let's have Branch bring him in while we head back."


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks for your patience! I had to take a longer than expected break from all things fanfiction, but I'm finally back…with an extra-long chapter.**

* * *

Looking up and out the windshield, Vic's gaze settled on the few clouds hovering just above the horizon, their whiteness in sharp contrast to the vivid blue that painted the rest of the canvas before them. Traffic was light, even for this stretch of the world, and it made the sky a dominating feature of the road ahead.

She returned to staring at the book in her lap like she was attempting to absorb everything her notes were trying to tell her. Her focus, to an outside observer, or in this instance, Walt, might seem one hundred percent aimed on their case. But the reality was that her attention was in two places at the moment, and their investigation was in second place. By far.

They had been sitting in silence since the initial flurry of activity. As they'd pulled away from campus, she'd ranted further about how the boys, and their secrets, had made things frustratingly difficult for them. She'd called Branch when they'd merged onto I-90 to let him know they were on their way back and to ask him to locate Dylan and bring him in. Then she'd called Tom Haskill to give him an update, leaving a message summarizing what had happened and asking him to call them. When she'd slipped her phone back into her pocket, she'd turned to find Walt staring at the road, looking lost in his own thoughts, and leaving her to marinate in hers.

And so she had.

He had said 'relationship.' Or maybe Cady had said it to him during their conversation in her Jeep, but he had repeated it. He hadn't really responded when Vic had repeated it as a question back to him, and now she found herself dwelling on what that meant.

His silence in his kitchen this morning could mean so many things. But she shouldn't be surprised by it. She had been doing it too. Holding back. It's what they both had always done.

Earlier, as they'd walked across campus toward the dorm, she had hinted at the fact that she'd stayed in Wyoming because of him. Or that he was a big part of it. But, she hadn't been able to come right out and say it because she didn't know where things fully stood between them. He had his concerns about their being together and she didn't want to scare him off.

But it wasn't just that she didn't want to lay things out there before he was ready. She didn't want to open herself up too much and leave herself exposed.

Deciding to take a peek in his direction, Vic shifted her eyes, trying to keep her head as still as possible. For a second she was able to watch him unnoticed, taking in the set of his jaw, and the steadiness of his gaze on the road ahead. But her attempt at subtlety must have failed, because he turned his head and caught her staring before she had time to go back to feigning absorption in her case notes.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "What's up?"

"Um...I was...uh..." She felt her stomach muscles tense. "I was just wondering why Tyler would take Jessica's dog." Did Walt buy that she'd been pondering that aspect of the investigation when she'd glanced his way?

His gaze stayed on her a fraction longer before returning to the road. "Maybe he hates dogs."

She shook her head slightly trying to focus her thoughts back on the case. "If you hate dogs, you yell at one, or kick the shit out of one, or hit one with your car and keep driving. You don't pick one up, and cart it around. That would require you to take care of it. Which is kind of the opposite of something you'd do if you hated dogs. Unless..." She turned toward him. "Did it look like Tyler had beaten or starved him?"

Again his eyes settled on her for a pause before he spoke. Intensely blue in the afternoon sun. Like a piece of the sky. He could probably see right through her. "Nope." She felt heat rise to her cheeks under his gaze, and she looked away. He had to know she'd hadn't really been thinking about the case when he'd caught her looking at him. He turned his attention back to the road. "But it was only the day after he took the dog."

She pursed her lips. Focus. She could do it. "Plus, if you hate dogs, you take it out on the neighbor's dog who's barking too loud. You don't drive seven hours round trip to pick one up." Dropping her chin, she pulled the picture of Jessica, Kelsey and Bear out of the file folder. "So, does that mean Tyler hates Jessica?"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Walt take the steering wheel with his left hand. "I didn't get a sense that he does."

She could feel his gaze on her even though she was doing her best not to look at him. "Me either. No one even hinted at it. Including Jessica." She looked up from the picture but evaded his eyes, taking in the road sign that came into view and then disappeared behind them, listing the number of miles to Sheridan, Gillette and Rapid City. "So he doesn't hate dogs, and he doesn't hate Jessica. So why take Bear?"

"Maybe he trained the dog to be an accessory."

It took a moment for his response to sink in, and she turned toward him, her eyebrow arched in surprise at the unexpected humor. Greeted by a half-smile, she couldn't hold back a grin of her own. "Bear doesn't quite match the description that the victims gave us."

He shrugged. "We haven't seen the dog dressed in black and wearing a mask, so maybe we shouldn't dismiss him as a possibility yet."

With a laugh, she picked up her pen. "I'll add him to the list of suspects. Maybe we should put him in a line up."

His eyes crinkled as he held her gaze, and she felt something loosen in her gut. Shifting slightly, she twirled the pen between her fingers. She thought about the wall she'd put up between them over the past couple years. And the one he'd put up. And the effort they'd both put in keeping their walls in place. She had needed her wall. Then. But now. Now, even though he was no longer off limits, remnants of their walls were still there. Holding them back.

Could she let herself be vulnerable?

Could she let him more fully in?

As his eyes held hers she tried to read in their depths whether he felt the same way, and was wondering the same thing. Whether he would be willing to put himself out there if she would be willing to do the same.

"Walt...I…uh...I..."

Her phone rang, and she jumped slightly, the pen slipping from her hand to the floor at her feet. Walt's gaze stayed on her as she fumbled to pull the phone from her pocket and bring it to her ear.

"Hey, Tom."

"You two still driving back to Durant?"

"Yep. I'm going to put you on speakerphone so Walt can hear."

She held the phone over the console between them. "We've got Branch out looking for Dylan Matthews and are headed back to the office to talk to him."

"You think Dylan's involved?" Tom's voice filled the air between them.

She lifted her gaze and found Walt looking out the windshield. "We're not sure. It could explain why the robbery of the hardware store was so different than the others, but the video from the store's camera shows Dylan in the store Monday morning while the robberies were going on."

"And Tyler? Have you been able to track him down?"

"No. Walt and I talked to a couple of the friends Tyler hung out with on Friday and Saturday, but he went off on his own this morning and no one knows where he is."

"In your message, you mentioned something about the dog."

"The dog Tyler had with him in Durant on Monday most likely belongs to Jessica Suarez."

"Tyler's girlfriend?"

"She's just a friend, not his girlfriend. He took the dog from her parents' place on Sunday without her knowing."

"Why'd he take the dog?"

She smiled. "We were just discussing that very question."

"Hardship." Walt's voice came out quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself.

Her brow furrowed as she looked over at him. "What?"

He rubbed his neck near the collar of his shirt as he glanced over at her. "I was thinking about reasons why people take what's not theirs. Hardship is one of them."

"I don't think Tyler has much money, but stealing a dog doesn't seem to be the answer to financial problems, or a get rich scheme."

"Unless you are in the dog trade business. Or maybe dog fighting."

"Do you think he'd be able to completely hide his involvement in something like that? No one has even suggested the possibility, and all of them seemed surprised he had a dog with him. Plus, he had the dog out in full view while he was in Durant." She paused. "Hey, Tom. Have there been a significant number of missing dogs reported in your county?"

"No more than usual."

Walt ran his hand along his jaw. "People steal for the thrill of it."

Glancing back at him, she nodded. "Everyone has been saying that he likes challenges. But...I don't know. Stealing a dog..."

"People steal because they believe that the item is rightfully theirs."

Vic paused. "Rich did mention that Tyler had a dog that died."

"Maybe Tyler got it into his head that Bear was the replacement."

She looked over at him. "Possibly. But Jessica said that she'd only had her dog around him once. That's pretty quick for Tyler to get attached."

His fingers now moved to scratch the area behind his ear, his eyes staying on hers. "She may have talked about the dog a lot, and with all her pictures of Bear...maybe Tyler began fixating on it, and then when she brought her dog camping a few weeks ago..."

Vic's lips twisted as she considered the possibility. "Maybe."

Dropping his hand and placing it on the steering wheel, he returned his focus to the road. "People also steal out of revenge."

"If that's the case, what has him so pissed with Jessica?"

He tapped his fingers against the wheel. "Jessica didn't share any incident that occurred, but she did say Tyler acted distant toward her this summer."

She nodded. "And she mentioned his strange behavior when he stopped by her dorm room two weeks back."

She lifted her right hand to count on her fingers. "So our options are that Tyler has an illegal dog trade business going. That he gets his kicks from stealing others' pets. That he's still obsessed with the loss of his childhood dog and took Bear to fill the void. Or he kidnapped the dog in retaliation for someone wronging him."

"And don't forgot my accomplice theory."

She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Forgot about that one. Oh...but wait. The dog has an alibi for the Saturday robberies."

Walt laughed. "Right. Tyler hadn't taken him yet. He was in Montana with Jessica's parents." Warm eyes landed on hers. "And he has the same alibi as Tyler for the Monday robberies, since the two were together that morning."

She grinned. "So we're still looking for someone else as the accomplice."

She suddenly realized she was still holding her phone. "Oh...hey, Tom. Sorry we've been rattling on and on."

Tom laughed. "That's ok. It's entertaining hearing your back and forth. You're not sick of each other after spending so much of the weekend together on the investigation?"

Vic barked out a laugh as she looked at the phone in her hand. "That's why we need to solve this case. So we can get some time off. Walt hides it well, but I'm sure he's looking forward to some alone time."

She looked over at Walt, whose fingers had stilled on the wheel as he glanced quickly over at her.

"I'm kidding," she mouthed.

His gaze returned to the road.

"Well you and Walt both deserve some time off when this case is closed."

She grinned. "I second that."

"Keep me updated on what you learn from the Matthews kid, and let me know if you need any help, or want me to come down to Durant."

"Sure. Keep your fingers crossed we can finally get some insights into what has been going on."

"Will do. Talk to you two later."

"Bye, Tom." She ended the call, lowered her hand, and let the phone slip into the cupholder, watching Walt stare out at the road.

She sat for a moment, trying to read his silence. "It was a joke Walt. I'm not sick of you."

He didn't respond and she decided not to push, and they were both saved by her phone ringing again.

She looked at the screen as she brought the phone to her ear. "Hey, Branch. Find Dylan yet?"

"I headed over to his parents' place after we talked earlier. No one was home, so I tried Dylan's phone, but he didn't answer. I waited and his parents eventually showed up. Dylan wasn't with them, but they said they'd just dropped him off at Durant High, so I'm headed that way now. How far out are you guys?"

"We crossed back into Wyoming a little while ago. We're probably about forty-five minutes away."

"I'll keep you posted, but hopefully I'm back at the office with the kid when you arrive."

"Thanks, Branch."

Walt once again was staring straight ahead as she slipped the phone back in her pocket. She directed her gaze out the windshield.

The clouds in front of them were a little bigger. A little more defined. But still out of reach.

Bending forward, she lowered her hand to the floor and felt around for the pen she had dropped, wondering, as she did so, if the possibility of the walls between them coming completely down was, like the clouds in the distance, something that would just remain on the horizon.

XX

She was positioned in front of their evidence wall with Walt standing, hands on hips, at her side. They'd arrived at the office a little while ago, and had apparently beaten Branch to the station. As it was late Sunday afternoon, the office had been dark and empty when they'd come through the front door, the phones forwarded until Ruby arrived Monday morning.

The silence that had enveloped parts of their return trip still lingered between them. As she began to pace, Walt walked over to the table and picked up a pen, but when he returned to his earlier spot by her side, he made no move to write any of their new findings down.

Frustrated because she couldn't come up with any useful conclusions, she huffed out a breath before glancing over at him. "Other than confirming that Tyler and Dylan know each other and are in the Outdoor Trailhead group together, we don't know much else. We have no proof of their collaboration, and both of them have alibis for three of the four robberies in Durant."

He nodded. "Yep."

"And we have absolutely no clue what their motive is, since we can only loosely connect them to some of the other kids."

She lifted her hand and removed the copy of the 'I owe you' post-it that Branch had found at Ace Hardware, along with the picture they'd printed of the masked individual looking at the video camera before leaving the hardware store. If Tyler had been parked out in front of the Busy Bee during the Ace robbery, and accounted for, and Dylan was in the back of the store, who is this individual? Who took only three roles of tape and left this note, after stealing hundreds, and in one case, thousands, of dollars from the other stores?

With both documents in hand, Vic walked over to the couch, collapsing into the cushions. She closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to make sense of the fragments of information they'd gathered. With a sigh, she opened her eyes, placed both pages to her left and lifted her laptop onto her thighs.

Launching the Ace Hardware recording from Monday, she once again began to review what had been captured by the camera that morning. Absorbed in watching the video, she hadn't noticed that Walt had made his way over to her side of the room until the cushion dipped beside her and he sank into the couch to her right.

She looked up at him, noticing the slightly haggard look on his face. "Tired?"

"Yep."

Tentatively she reached out, placing her hand on his thigh. "We're going to figure this out."

He stared down at her hand, before slipping his fingers on top of hers, his palm warm against her knuckles. "Yep."

She looked down at their joined hands. They couldn't seem to demolish their walls all at once, but maybe, just maybe, they could do it brick by brick.

She noticed a piece of paper in his right hand. "What'ya got there?"

He looked to the hand she was referring to as if he'd forgotten what he was holding. "It's the consolidated timeline of last weekend that we've been building. I'm going to add the new information we've learned talking to Tyler's friends."

He glanced over at her laptop. "What are _you_ working on?"

With her right hand still covered by his left, she ran her other hand over the top of her head and down her ponytail. "I'm re-watching the recording from Ace Hardware to see if anything new jumps out at me now that I'm thinking of Dylan's involvement differently."

She let her head fall back against the cushion, her eyes lifting to the ceiling. "And something about the 'I owe you' note is still bothering me, but I can't put my finger on it."

Walt let his head roll back against the cushion beside her, giving her hand a slight squeeze before closing his eyes. They sat like that for a moment. It felt comfortable and familiar, as if this was their usual way of siting on his office couch together, even though it was far from it.

At the sound of the door in the other room opening and feet on the floor boards, Vic felt Walt tense. A moment passed, and then he released his hold on her hand, launched himself into a standing position and walked behind his desk.

She straightened just before Branch and Dylan Matthews appeared in the doorway. Dylan looked between all three of them, his eyes landing back on Branch, who removed his hat and stepped into the room. "I told Dylan here that you've been talking to all the cashiers from the stores that were robbed."

Walt took a step forward. "I'm Sheriff Longmire. I believe you already know Deputy Moretti."

Dylan briefly glanced over at Vic. "Yes, sir."

Walt gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "Come in and take a seat."

With a glance around, as if he were trying to read the situation, Dylan pulled one of the two chairs out and sat down.

Walt slowly pulled back his own chair and took a seat. Folding his arms in front of him, he looked across the desk at Dylan, and leaned in.

"How have you been, since everything that happened on Monday? Are you doing ok?" Walt's voice was steady and didn't betray any level of suspicion.

"Yes, sir."

"And you're back in Durant this weekend." Walt said it as a statement, but he let it hang in the air until it felt like a question that needed to be answered.

"Yeah...I...I dunno...I guess I wanted to be back...home."

"Was this a planned visit?"

"Not really. Just needed a break from school, I guess."

Vic watched Walt watch Dylan.

Walt finally leaned back in his chair, his elbows on the desktop and his hands clasped. "Well, we thought you'd like to know, we've got a suspect that we're looking into for the robberies."

Dylan blinked, but said nothing.

"Actually, we have multiple suspects."

She watched Dylan's face, but she could not detect a reaction of any kind. "And you're trying to figure out which one actually did it?"

"Well...no. We think more than one individual was involved. We're just trying to put the specifics together to figure who did what."

Again, she watched Walt watch Dylan.

After another moment of silence passed, Walt stood up. "One thing that will help us out is to get a better grasp of the details from Monday morning. Could you step over to this wall for a moment?"

Dylan paused and then rose, tugging on his belt to adjust his jeans. Walt walked over to their wall of notes and pictures, with Dylan right behind him. Branch pushed himself from the door jamb he'd been leaning against, walked into the other room to lay his hat down on his desk, and then returned and joined them. Vic decided to stay on the couch.

Walt pointed at the picture of the Exxon gas station. "We have the first robbery occurring between 6:15 and 6:30 at the Exxon near 90. There were about two hours between that robbery and the second one at The Filling Station around 8:15. Next, Ace Hardware was hit. We have an exact time for that robbery, due to the time stamps on the recording you gave us from the store's camera. The man in black entered the store at 8:33 and left at 8:37. And the last place that was robbed was AJ's Liquors, between 9:15 and 9:40."

Walt glanced over at Dylan, who was scanning the wall beside him, before continuing.

"On Friday morning, I decided to trace the path of the robberies, going store to store and timing things out. Do you know where I started?"

Dylan's gaze flicked to the left corner of their wall content. "Uh...the Exxon?"

"Actually, I started where it all began. At the Big Horn Motel, over on Main Street." Walt pointed to a picture of the motel. "You familiar with it?"

Dylan looked first at the picture and then back at him. "I've seen the sign."

Walt held his gaze for a moment. "Yeah, me too. I've never stayed there, being from Durant, but that sign is hard to miss."

Again he held Dylan's eyes before continuing. "Anyway, I headed over to the motel around 5:30 on Friday to talk to Paul, the guy at the front desk who had been on duty Monday morning. Actually, Branch..." Walt looked over his shoulder at the deputy. "You talked to Paul, too, didn't you?"

"Yep. I went over to the Big Horn on Tuesday morning."

"Did Paul show you their video feed, where they record the comings and goings from each of their rooms?"

Vic saw a look flash between Walt and Branch, unnoticed by Dylan who was still looking at the wall. Branch nodded. "He did."

Vic tried to hide her smile. She liked when Walt did this. Pretending to not already know what happened and that he was just now putting the pieces together as he talked to the suspect.

"So we know one of our suspects was staying in room 5."

Branch nodded again. "Yep. Not only was he on the video recording, but Paul ran in to him around 8:15 Monday morning."

Walt placed his right hand on his hip. "Which means our first suspect couldn't have robbed The Filling Station. And since I saw that same suspect driving in front of me on the road a little while later, he also couldn't have been the one to rob Ace Hardware."

Branch crossed his arms. "Nope. Couldn't have been him."

"Which means he wasn't the only one involved. In fact, when I talked to Paul, he informed me that the room next to our first suspect's room had also been rented out for the same time period. Between Sunday and Tuesday. And that the individuals left their room before seven am Monday morning, as captured by their video camera, which is in line with the timing of the first robbery."

Walt turned his head toward Dylan. "We're talking to each of the robbery victims about where they were throughout the morning to better understand the exact timing and details of the robberies." He turned toward the couch. "Vic, what time does the recording have Dylan arriving at the hardware store Monday?"

Vic bent her head to look down at her laptop screen. She moved the slider on the video file back until she landed on Dylan entering the store. Without looking up, she called out the answer. "7:29."

As Walt turned back toward Dylan, she moved the video slider back again, and re-watched Dylan's entrance into the store as Walt asked his next question. "Dylan, what were you doing before you arrived at the store that morning?"

"Uh...sleeping. And then getting ready for work."

"And when did you come back to Durant last weekend?"

"Saturday morning. I worked at the store Saturday afternoon."

"Do you remember what time you got to town that morning?"

"Uh. Not exactly."

Vic launched her browser, typed in a URL, and then entered the name of the hardware store into the search field, her focus pulling her away from the conversation occurring across from her.

After a few minutes she looked up. "Hey Dylan, did you know that the items stolen from Ace by the intruder on Monday were three rolls of duct tape?"

Dylan looked over to where she sat on the couch. "Duct tape?"

"Yeah. Duct tape."

He shook his head.

"Sheriff Longmire and I were at Ace on Friday, but I can't remember which aisle the tape is in."

Dylan looked between them. "Uh...aisle two."

"Oh...right. And the aisle is on your left if you're standing at the front door looking in to the store, correct?"

"Yes."

Her eyes back on the screen, she fast-forwarded and re-watched the recording. "As you likely know, the camera at the store only captures the front door and cashier area of the store, but it does look like the guy is veering to the left as he heads for the aisles." She looked back up, catching Walt looking at her before focusing again on Dylan. "Let's assume he went straight for aisle two. What do you think that means?"

Dylan shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he shifted his weight to his other leg. "Uh...I don't know."

"It means that he knew which aisle the tape was in. Which means he's familiar with the layout of the store, or at least scouted out the store in advance to know which aisle would have the tape."

Her gaze returned to the screen. "Ok. So he comes in the store, heads for the second aisle, pulls three rolls of tape off the wall, and leaves the note..." She looked up again. "Dylan, if you didn't know about the tape, you probably aren't aware that he left a note in the duct tape aisle?"

"A note?"

"Yeah. It was an 'I owe you' for the tape he stole."

"Uh...no. I didn't know about the tape or the note."

"Does the aisle with the duct tape have packs of post-its in it as well?"

Dylan paused and then shook his head. "No."

"Do you sell post-it notes in the store?"

"I don't think so. No."

"So that means the guy brought the post-it with him." She rewound again. "He likely had it in a pocket or tucked in somewhere. And..." Vic looked over to the copy of the 'I owe you' note lying on the couch to her left before looking up. "Branch do you still have the original note?"

Branch exited the room, returning with the plastic bag containing the post-it, which he handed to her.

Vic flipped the Ziploc bag over and peered at the back of the note. "There are no fuzzies or anything stuck to the adhesive. It's clean. And the paper doesn't have any creases. Which means he likely brought a pack of post-its in, not just a single note."

Placing the plastic bag down beside her, she looked back at her screen, clicked over to the browser window she had opened earlier, and sent the page to the printer. She stood, left the room, walked over to Ruby's desk, reached into the top right drawer to pull out a few items, grabbed her printout from the printer, and then returned to Walt's office.

Tearing a piece of tape from the dispenser on the table, she walked up to their collection of notes and pictures on the wall and stuck the sheet of paper on top, in front of them. "This is a printout from Google maps. It's the satellite view of Ace Hardware." She pointed toward the middle of the north side of the building. "This is the front door on the north side. From the recording we know the guy entered through this door at 8:33. Dylan, where in the building were you at this time?"

"I was in the back, doing inventory and getting ready to re-stock some items."

"Can you show me on the picture where approximately that was in the building?"

Dylan pointed to the south-west corner of the building.

"Where's the back door on this building?"

Dylan pointed to the middle of the south side of the building. "There's a door back here."

"And that's the one the guy tried to open when he was leaving and set off the alarm?"

"Yes."

Vic pointed to a spot next to the back door. "What's this? It kind of looks like another door."

"That's a garage style door that allows us to bring large items into and out of the store, but you need a code to open it."

"And are there any other entrances?"

"There isn't one on the west side, but on the east side, there is a large door that stays open during store hours, when the weather's not bad, so that customers can get to the lawn and garden center outside." Dylan pointed to the location on the printed picture.

"Was that door open at the time of the robbery?"

"No. It was locked."

"And which part of the building is the store, and which part is the back storage and office area?"

Dylan drew a horizontal line across the building with his finger. "Everything above this line is the store floor."

Vic visualized the second aisle and the path to the door that led to the back of the store based on their visit to Ace on Friday. Her focus returning to Walt's office, she paused, and then pivoted, looking around. Landing on the coat rack, she made her way to the opposite corner of the room, pulled Walt's coat off one of the arms and hung it on the back of his chair, and then removed his hat and placed it on the desk. She then picked up the empty rack, and brought it over to their wall of notes.

From her wrist she removed one roll of duct tape and two roles of masking tape that she'd procured from Ruby's desk. "Let's pretend that these are the three rolls of duct tape." She placed the rolls on the arm of the coat rack that was facing her. "And that the three rolls are hanging here on the shelf of aisle two at the store."

She looked over at Branch and then stepped toward him. "If I could have your help Branch..." When he nodded, she put her hand on his right shoulder, guiding him back to the open door to Walt's office, and then pulled a post-it note pack from her pocket and handed it to him. She glanced across the room and again found Walt's eyes on her. She pulled her attention back to Branch. "Ok. You're the intruder. You're about to enter the store and head to aisle two." She pointed to the coat rack. "The pad of post-its is in your coat pocket, which we'll pretend is your hoodie. The first sheet is already filled out with your 'I owe you' message. You're going to go to aisle two, remove three rolls of tape from the shelf, and slip them on to your right arm like he did."

She stepped back and gave Branch a nod. He stuffed the post-its in his left pocket and then made his way over to the coat rack, removed the three rolls of tape and slipped them on his arm.

Vic stepped closer. "And then you pull the pad of post-its from your pocket, tear off the top sheet and stick it to the shelf."

Branch removed the top sheet and stuck it to the rack.

"And now it's time to go. You could go back through the front door, which you know is unlocked, and which is less than a minute away. But you decide to go out the back door. Why?"

Branch paused and then looked at her over his shoulder. "Maybe he was parked out back, and he thought it would be quicker than going out the front and all the way around the building to get to his car."

Vic looked at the printout of the aerial view of the building. "But look at how much of the building he has to go through to get to the back door." She pointed at the picture. "Aisle two is around here, and all of this area here is the storage and back office area. That's a lot of building to go through compared to the way he came in. Plus, would he have known for sure there was a back door?"

Walt stared at the picture. "He would know there was if he parked out back, or at least canvassed the back of the building. He would have seen the door from the outside."

She began to pace. "Ok, let's assume he knows there is a door. But unlike the front door, which he knows exactly where it is, would he choose a door if he had to figure out how to navigate to it? It might not be a straight shot to the back door."

Walt continued to stare at the picture. "Maybe he's been in the back of the store."

She stopped and turned toward Dylan. "Who is allowed in the back?"

He blinked. "Just employees. For safety reasons."

Branch looked over at her. "So it's an employee who robbed the store?"

She pursed her lips in thought. "Or he got into the back unseen at an earlier time to scope things out."

Crossing his arms, Branch shifted his weight. "If he scoped things out at night, when no one's around, he'd need access to the building. The keys and the alarm codes. Which suggests that he's an employee. Or at least that he had help from an employee."

Walt looked between the two of them. "Or he snuck into the back during store hours."

"Which would be risky because employees go in and out of the back all day, and not always at set times." Vic looked over at Dylan. "Dylan, you said you were the only one working that morning. Is that typical? The store is not huge, but it's also not small. Aren't there usually people helping out on the floor, and not just at the registers?"

"I wasn't going to be by myself once it opened, I just had to get things ready to open by myself. Dawn and Maggie, two of the cashiers, were coming in at nine."

"They couldn't come in earlier and help you?"

"Their kids were home from school 'cause it was Columbus Day. Mike gave them extra time to deal with getting their kids where they needed to be before showing up. I only needed to prepare to open by myself. Dawn and Maggie were going to be on the registers while I manned the floor until Mike and Jeff showed up."

"Mike and Jeff, aren't they the brothers that own the store?"

He nodded.

"And they couldn't come in early to help you get ready to open?"

"They were both out of town on Sunday, and not returning until Monday morning. Normally the store opens at seven on Mondays, but since it was Columbus Day, and because they weren't going to be able to make it in until later in the morning, they decided to open at nine."

Vic stared at the wall thinking things through. "How far in advance did you learn the store was going to open at nine instead of seven, and about the fact that you would have to be there by yourself, before it opened?"

"I think Mike asked me about a month ago."

Again Vic looked at the printout of the building. "So there's a chance the guy who stole the duct tape picked this date because he knew that you would be the only one in the store, just like at the other locations that were hit."

She scanned the perimeter of the building and then turned again toward Dylan. "Where do employees park? In the main parking lot at the front of the building?"

"No, we park on the side. Here." He pointed to parking spots on the west side of the building.

"It doesn't look like it has parking out back."

"Yeah, there are no parking spots in the back. Only the trucks with shipments pull in there."

"If he parked in back, his car would stand out, and with the back door locked, he'd have to walk around the two sides of the building to get to the front entrance, creating a greater chance that he'd be seen. He could have parked in the front lot, where he would be very close to the front door, but since the store wasn't opening until nine, he'd be the only one in the lot, and again his car would stand out. Plus, if his car was out front, it wouldn't explain why he tried to leave through the back door."

She paused, her right boot tapping the floor as she continued to sift through her thoughts. "So maybe he parked on the side, where the employees park. His car wouldn't stand out, since the parking spots aren't on the main road and he'd blend in with the employees' cars, which are expected to be there before the store opens. And going in the front door and out the back door, with his car on the side, could make sense. Maybe."

She looked over toward her laptop on the couch, landing on the Ziploc containing the post-it note.

"Alright. I want to try this again. Walt, can you play the intruder this time?" She reached out and took the pad of post-its from Branch's hand, and then pulled down the post-it he'd stuck to the rack. "Branch, can you put the rolls of tape back on the arm of the coat rack?" She then turned and beckoned Walt to follow her to his office door. As she handed him the post-its, their fingers touched, and his eyes, conveying curiosity at what she was attempting to do, held hers. She was standing close, and when she didn't step back, he finally did, his eyes shifting off of her as he pulled his hand away. She dropped her gaze and then turned, remembering she needed a pen. She walked over to his desk to pick up the one he had used earlier, and then returned to the doorway to give it to him, this time keeping a little more distance between them.

"Ok. You're going to do what Branch did, but this time you're going to write the 'I owe you' message on the post-it after removing the rolls of tape, but before sticking the note to the rack."

Walt momentarily held her eyes again, and then nodded.

She followed him as he crossed the room, staying a few feet behind him when he stopped in front of the coat rack. Dylan stood to their left, near the private entrance, and Branch was leaning against the side of Walt's desk.

Walt pulled the three rolls of tape from the rack and slipped them onto his right arm, before digging into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out the pen and post-its. He quickly jotted down the message, and then stuck the sheet to the rack.

Vic stepped up to his side, pulling off the post-it, and staring down at it in her hands. "What if the guy didn't write the note in advance? Maybe leaving a note wasn't something he planned to do, but when he got to the shelf and took the tape, maybe in a moment of remorse, and remembering he had a pen and some post-its in his pockets, he decided to leave the 'I owe you' message. The question is, if he took the time to write the note at that point, did he have enough time to get all the way to the back door, and then to the front door? All of it occurred within a four-minute window."

She looked over at Walt. "We really should have gone to the hardware store to time this out."

A glint of a smile passed his lips. "Yep."

She paced across the floor, paused, and then walked over to the couch and sat down. Placing Walt's 'I owe you' post-it down on the pile beside her, she once again lifted her computer onto her lap and began re-watching the video.

A buzz sounded, and she looked up to find Branch taking his cell phone from his pocket. He looked down at the screen. "I left Ferg a message earlier, giving him an update. He's texted to let me know we can call him at home or on his cell if we need him to come in."

As Branch slipped the phone back into his pocket, she returned her attention to the laptop screen. As she went to rewind, something Branch said lingered in her thoughts. They could call Ferg at home or on his cell. At home or on his cell. Suddenly her eyes grew big in realization of what Ferg's text had reminded her of, and she stood. Walt's gaze connected with hers and his eyes followed her to the door.

"Be right back."

She walked over to her desk and slid the top drawer open. Moving the contents of the drawer around with her hand, her eyes landed on the note she'd been looking for. "Holy shit." Staring at it, she took a breath, and then reached down and picked it up before pushing the drawer closed with her hip. At the doorway to the office she stopped, taking in Walt, Branch and Dylan, who were turned back toward the wall, conversing. Or at least Walt and Branch appeared to be.

She stepped into the room, staring at the note, her lips pursing. "Dylan, can you walk me through what you did at the store after your arrival at 7:29?"

"Like, the details?"

"Yes. What was the first thing you did after arriving at the store?"

"Uh, I guess I turned on the lights."

"That sounds about right. Let me get my laptop, and we can watch the recording as you take us through that morning."

Vic went over to the couch, placed the note she'd pulled from her drawer face-down on top of the other items she'd placed in the pile, retrieved her computer and placed it on Walt's desk before gesturing to Dylan to come over. When he joined her side, with Walt and Branch at her back, she hit play. "There you are, coming in the front door at 7:29, and, as you mentioned to me on Monday, you don't lock the door behind you. You turn on the light at the front, near the registers...there...before you head into the store and disappear from the camera's view. A few moments later you must turn on the rest of the lights in the store because you can see it get brighter. And then...what came next? You're not on camera, so you didn't come back to the front. Did you stay on the floor, or go into the back?"

"Uh, I went to the staff room to take off my jacket, and to see if Mike or Jeff had left any specific instructions."

"And, had they? Left instructions?"

"Just a list of some inventory they wanted me to check, and the items they wanted me to re-stock."

"And did you complete everything on the list before they returned?"

"Uh...no. I was kind of...interrupted."

"By the intruder?"

He nodded.

"And you said you were in the back when the guy set off the alarm?"

"I was getting ready to bring out some boxes of trash bags."

"Customers been buying a lot of trash bags?"

He shrugged. "It's fall. People do a lot of raking."

"So the alarm suddenly goes off. What was your initial thought? Did you think the store was being robbed? You were, after all, manning the store on your own. No other employee was in there who could have accidentally opened the door forgetting the alarm hadn't been turned off yet."

"Uh...I wasn't thinking that a robbery was going on. I thought maybe the door had just gone off on its own."

"On its own? Is it a touchy door? Have you had problems with the alarm before?"

"Uh...not really. But I guess we haven't been robbed in the three years I've worked there, so I wasn't thinking that."

"So where did you run first? To the store floor, or to the back door?"

"Out on to the store floor."

"You went to the store floor, even though you thought it was just the alarm going off?"

"I wasn't sure, so I wanted to check the store out."

"And that's how you got a glimpse of the guy before he exited the store?"

"Yep."

"So that's when you started thinking it was a robbery?"

"Well...yeah, sort of. I didn't see him carrying anything, so I wasn't sure he actually stole something."

"You didn't see the duct tape rolls on his arm?"

"No."

"So, the alarm went off, and then you ran out on to the store floor in time to see him leave. But you didn't make it to the very front of the store right away." She clicked to pause the video. "Here's where you finally show up near the registers, and then make a call to our department."

Dylan bent over the screen. "Yep."

Walt stepped forward. "Doesn't the alarm going off trigger the alarm company? Shouldn't they have called you?"

Straightening, Dylan turned toward Walt. "I don't know why there's a separate alarm on the back door, but it's not linked up to anything. If the alarm on the front or side doors were to go off, it sends a signal to the alarm company, but the back door isn't set up that way. So I had to call it in, which is why I called your sheriff's department."

Walt looked over at Vic. "If the intruder knew that the back door alarm wasn't set up to notify anyone, then he would have continued going out the back door even when the alarm was triggered. So the guy didn't know about the alarm."

Branch stepped forward. "But the guy's already triggered the alarm. He's got the door open. Why not just keep going out the back door, if that's what he intended do? With the alarm going off, why go all the way across the store?"

She leveled a look at Dylan, her lips pursing. "Maybe he knew about the alarm situation, and opened the back door, not in an attempt to exit, but to intentionally trigger the alarm, knowing it would sound, but that it wouldn't actually trigger an official response."

Biting down on her lower lip, Vic crossed both arms, her focus returning to the screen. After a moment, she lifted her hand and pointed to the time stamp. "Dylan, you made the call seven minutes after the alarm went off. Can you walk me through those seven minutes, from the moment the alarm went off until the moment you showed up at the front of the store?"

"Well, it took me a couple minutes to get to the store floor after the alarm went off."

"Actually, it took you less than a minute." She dragged the slider of the video back. "Here. From the time the alarm goes off, until the guy shows up on camera at the front of the store is less than a minute. If you were to arrive on the store floor, in time to see him before he exited, you had to get from the back corner of the building and out onto the store floor in the same amount of time. Is that possible? To get all the way from the south-west corner of the storage area, out on to the main floor in less than a minute?"

"Yeah, I guess so, since I was able to do it."

"Ok, a minute passed. What happened next? From the recording, it's another three minutes before the alarm is turned off. What took so long?"

"Uh...I guess it took a little while to figure out how to turn the alarm off."

"And then what happened for the next three or so minutes, before you made the call?"

"I...I tried to figure out if anything had been taken."

"But you said you didn't see him carrying anything out."

"Yeah, but I thought that maybe he had something in his pockets?"

Her brow furrowed. "You did a three-minute search, and then gave up?"

"Yeah, I checked the safe and then walked around and I guess after a few minutes I realized it was pretty much impossible to determine if anything was gone."

"So you decided to go to the phone at one of the registers to report the situation?"

"Uh...yeah."

"Why'd you call in the break-in from a register at the front, and not from your cell phone, which you probably had on you, or a phone in the back?"

"Uh...I needed to be by the front door when you guys arrived, to let you in, so I...uh...I thought I'd just make the call from up there."

"You said you looked around to see if anything had been stolen. You didn't see the post-it in aisle two during your search?"

"No."

"When Deputy Connelly came to the store, did you run across the post-it when you took him down the aisles?"

Dylan looked over at Branch. "We talked about the registers, and that they were empty because it wasn't time to open yet. I took him to the back office, to where the safe is, to show him that it hadn't been broken into. After then we went to the door that had been triggered, and went outside to check out back. And then we walked around the store to confirm there wasn't anyone else still in the building, but I don't know if we specifically went down aisle two."

Vic straightened. "I want to try another scenario. Dylan, can I get you to play the role this time?"

Dylan looked at her, a little surprised. "Uh...sure."

Turning and opening her palm, she arched her eyebrow at Walt. "Can I have the tape, pen and post-its?"

He handed her the pen and notepad. "I'll set up the coat rack."

She gave him a quick smile and then joined Dylan in the doorway, holding out the items Walt had given her. "Dylan, you're going to do what Sheriff Longmire and Deputy Connelly both did, and remove the rolls of tape once you are in front of our makeshift shelf, and place them on your right arm. Put the post-its and pen in your pocket for now, and don't remove them until I say. Ok?"

"Uh...sure."

"Ok. Whenever you're ready."

Dylan made his way over to the coat rack, and like the others, removed the tape and slid the rolls over his wrist, before pausing and turning to look at Vic for the next prompt.

"Let's say the private entrance door to your left is the back door to the hardware store. Can you go over to the door and open it?"

He hesitated, and then nodded, walked over to the door and opened it. Looking over his shoulder he again waited for his next prompt.

"Ok. The alarm is going off. Leave the door open, and come back to this door, as if you are leaving through the front door of the store."

Dylan came back to where she was standing in the doorway.

"Now, return to aisle two, write the 'I owe you' message on a post-it and stick it to the coat rack."

Again Dylan paused, but then he walked over to the coat rack, pulled the pack of post-its from the pocket of his jacket, wrote out the message and stuck the sheet to the rack.

Vic walked over to the coat rack and pulled off the sticky note.

With her eyes on the note she began to pace. "Dylan, we've confirmed that you arrived at the store at 7:29, and that you came to the front of the store at 8:43, after the robbery, to call the Sheriff's Department, because you're captured on camera at both of those times." She lifted her head. "What we can't confirm, because there is no recorded evidence, is what you were doing _during_ those two times."

"I was checking inventory and re-stocking. Like I told you."

"Yeah, that's what you told us, but we have no recorded evidence that you were. What if..." She stopped pacing, looking squarely at him. "What if it was you who took the tape and left the note?"

"What?"

"What if you turned off the alarm and slipped out the back door. Maybe you changed your clothes in the back before leaving. Maybe you changed them in your car. But what if you came around the side of the building, and entered the front door at 8:33, dressed all in black and wearing a mask? The front door that you _accidentally_ left open. What if, after taking the tape, you went to the back door, turned the alarm back on, and then opened the door to intentionally set off the alarm as a way to make you look like a victim and reduce the chance of you being considered a suspect since you made it appear like you were in the store the whole time? And then, when you left the store via the front door, what if you ran around the side of the building, re-entered through the back door, which you'd left open, turned off the alarm, and then changed back into your clothes in time to go to the front of the store to call us to report the break-in, from a spot where you knew you'd be captured on camera?"

"What? No. That's not what happen—"

"And what if later you felt a little bad for what you'd done? And since you are an employee, and therefore were still in the store, and Mike and Jeff weren't back yet...what if you decided to write the 'I owe you' note? And then later in the week, you made good on that promise and slid an envelope with the money under the front door."

Dylan sank into one of the chairs in front of Walt's desk. "I didn't..."

"What if you and Tyler Daniels partnered up to pull all of this off, but created ways to make it look like you weren't involved?"

Walt's eyes had been flashing back and forth between Vic and Dylan during the interrogation, but now they were squarely on the boy. "Dylan, we know you're friends with Tyler. We know that he attended MSUB with you last year and that you're in the Outdoor Trailhead club together."

"Just because he went to the same school as me, and we're in the same club doesn't mean we're friends. It's a big group, and an even bigger school."

"We have confirmation from others that you're friends. That you were planning to be roommates sophomore year until he dropped out." Walt stared down at the top of Dylan's head. "And the fact that you just said that Tyler went to the same school means you know he no longer goes there, which means you know him."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dylan looked away.

Vic walked over to the couch and picked up the items she'd placed in a pile before sitting down in the chair next to Dylan. "When I asked Walt to write out the 'I owe you' message during the role play a little while ago, this is what he wrote."

She held up Walt's post-it, which contained the words 'I owe you twelve dollars.'

"He wrote the message that way, even though he'd seen the message that was actually written, because that's the way Walt writes. He doesn't shorten his words. He writes them fully out. But you do. You have a habit of writing 'U' instead of 'you.' And since it's not a text message, it kind of stands out. And I didn't realize it until I remembered you'd written your contact information on a post-it last Monday before you left the office. I had the note in my desk, and had forgotten about it, until just now, when one of our deputies texted Deputy Connelly about how we could reach him."

She held up the post-it from her desk drawer, that had the message 'U can call my cell 307-245-1226 or dorm room 406-652-7633.'

She watched him as he looked at the note. "And I guess it could just be a coincidence, that both you and the intruder shorten your 'you' to 'U,' but then I got a look at the 'I owe you' message you just wrote during the role play."

This time she held up the post-it note he'd filled out and stuck to the coat rack. It bore the words 'I owe U $12.'

"We never showed you the original note, Dylan. We never said that the amount was twelve dollars, or even that he'd listed the amount in his message. We didn't indicate that the 'you' had been written as 'U.' And yet, here is a note that looks remarkably like the one that had been left on the shelf on Monday."

As she held up the Ziploc bag containing the post-it note that Branch had retrieved from Ace Hardware, Dylan once again averted his eyes.

"As an employee, and because you were already in the store, you would have been able to put up the post-it note later, after the robbery, but before the store owners returned. And it makes sense why you would feel guilty about taking something from the store. You had nothing against Mike or Jeff."

Dylan remained silent.

"Why did you do the rest? Why did you steal the money and hurt the other cashiers?"

His silence continued.

"Dylan, you have an alibi for the final robbery because you were captured on camera at Ace multiple times during the time AJ's Liquors was being robbed, but you don't have alibis for the other robberies. Tyler has alibis for all but one of them. They're going to be pinned on you if you don't tell us what happened."

Dylan's silence continued, but Vic saw his lip quiver.

"They are going to think you're the mastermind behind the plan because we can't tie Tyler directly to the acts. Do you—"

"We didn't come up with the plan. That was all Tyler."

"We?"

"He said...he said he needed our help."

"Dylan, who else was involved?"

"He said they were all assholes. For what they'd done to us. That they needed to pay."

Her eyes flicked briefly over to Walt before returning to Dylan. "Dylan, what did the assholes do to you?"

Dylan's lip trembled again, and he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, before bowing his head.

"I haven't...I haven't been able to sleep this week. I didn't mean for things to get so out of hand."

Walt stepped toward the desk. "Dylan. Who was the third person involved?"

Dylan looked up at Walt as he approached. "I...I can't."

Walt leaned against the side edge of the desk and looked down at the boy. "Why can't you tell us?"

"I swore I wouldn't."

"Did Tyler make you swear to secrecy?"

"We promised not to say anything. We all promised."

"You seem like a good kid. You left the note and repaid the owners for the tape you took. Tell us what happened. We want to stop anything further from happening. Stop anyone else from getting hurt.

Dylan looked down at his hands in his lap.

"You lied, Dylan, about not knowing the individuals from Sheridan. You said you didn't know who Tyler is, but we know you are friends. Even if you never met Rich Sollinger, you would surely know who he is given your friendship with Tyler and his well-known strained relationship with his mother's boyfriend. And you claimed not to know Evan or Nick either, but you met them at the bike clinic they ran for your Trailhead group back in May."

Dylan suddenly looked up.

Walt blinked. "Dylan, did something happen at the bike clinic?"

Dylan looked back at his hands.

"Did Evan or Nick do something to you?"

"No."

"Did they do something to Tyler?"

Dylan didn't respond.

"What happened at the clinic, Dylan?"

This time Walt let his question sit there, and he waited, never moving his gaze off Dylan.

Dylan seemed to squirm a little under the scrutiny. "Tyler was pissed about something, pretty much from the start of the clinic, but he wouldn't tell me what."

"Did it have to do with Evan and Nick?"

"He was acting kind of weird around them. He wouldn't tell me how he knew them or what he had against them, but he couldn't take his eyes off of them the entire session."

Walt stayed focused on Dylan, waiting for him to continue.

"He kept volunteering when they'd ask for someone to be the first to try something out. I don't know if he was trying to test out whether they recognized him, but neither of them acted like they knew him."

"And did something end up happening between him and the other boys?"

"When we were finishing up, and loading our bikes and gear into our cars, he just stood there, staring at Evan Brandt. He finally said that he was going to go over there and talk to him. I didn't see the conversation...I'm not even sure there was a conversation, but when Tyler returned, he was angry and wanted to get out of there immediately, but no matter how much I tried I could not get him to tell me what happened."

"Did anything occur after the clinic?"

Dylan shifted in his chair.

"Jessica told us that Tyler grew a little distant much of this summer. Did he do that just with her?"

"He avoided everyone for a while."

"Cody said that you and Tyler were planning to be roommates sophomore year, but that all changed when Tyler left school."

Dylan nodded.

"Did Tyler's decision to take some time off have to do with Evan and Nick, and whatever happened between them?"

Dylan stilled.

"Did he tell you why he dropped out?"

"One day this summer, he was waiting for me by my car, outside the store when I finished up after work. We went for a drive, and after a while he asked me to pull over. He sat there without saying anything. When he finally started talking, he said that he knew Evan and Nick in high school. That they had been an ass to him, and one day they'd pulled a terrible prank on him."

"Was it his freshman year?"

"When they pulled the prank? Uh...yeah, I guess so. They're a few years older than us."

"Tyler's mother said he came back from school one day freshman year, and locked himself in his room for a few days. What was the prank?"

Dylan shook his head. "He wouldn't tell me what it was, only that it was awful. Whatever it was, he never got over it, and seeing them at the clinic brought it all back."

"What happened next?"

"He said he wanted to get back at them. He didn't have a plan yet, but he said he would come up with one."

"And then?"

"Things seemed to go back to normal for a while. He started participating in our Trailhead activities again, and never mentioned either the clinic or his plan, but he also didn't talk about coming back to school and I know he doesn't let things go, so I knew that he was still thinking about it."

"When did he finally come up with the plan?"

"One day, later this summer, he was standing by my car outside Ace again. He said he'd been following Evan and Nick trying to get some ideas, and he had seen a guy following Evan around every Sunday. He discovered that the guy was from Durant. Tuck Jensen. He wanted to know if I knew him. He said he'd had some ideas about what we could do to get back at Evan and Nick, but that we'd need a third person, and he wanted to know if Tuck might be interested."

"You guys asked Tuck to be your third person?"

"No. I told Tyler that I didn't want Tuck involved."

"Why not?"

Dylan looked to the side.

Walt's gaze stayed steady. "You told us that you knew who Tuck was because everyone knew who he was, but you made it seem you didn't really know him."

"I...I knew him."

"How did you know him?"

"I...uh...I tried out for the football team my freshman year."

"When Tuck was a sophomore?"

"Yeah."

Walt's blinked, pausing. "Did you make the team?" Vic thought back to their search through the yearbooks, but couldn't remember Dylan in any of the football pictures.

"Yes."

"Did Tuck do something to you when you were trying out for the team?"

"They...they call it hazing. Most of it's not a big deal."

"But some of it was?"

Dylan half-nodded as he dropped his chin.

"Did Tuck do something to you?"

"Not directly...but he...there was a day when I walked into the locker room and someone threw me to the ground. I never saw who it was. Or who kicked me. Repeatedly. But I heard someone laugh from across the room and when I looked over..."

Walt paused again. "It was Tuck?"

Dylan nodded. "He didn't do anything to stop it. He was this huge deal, a star player, and they would have listened to him. But he just stood there and laughed."

"You quit the team because of what happened?"

"Yes."

"And you told Tyler all this when he was interested in having Tuck get involved in his payback plan?"

Dylan nodded.

Walt started to stand up, and then stopped, sinking back into the edge of the desk. He stared in front of him, pulling in his lower lip. Vic waited for him to continue but when he didn't she slid forward in her seat to lean in closer to Dylan. "Was it Tyler who suggested adding Tuck to the plan as a target instead?"

"Yeah."

"And was it always the plan to hurt the boys?"

"At first it was about scaring them. With the gun. The robbery. Stealing some money. They each worked at a family business. We never meant to steal a lot, but it would still hurt some."

"And when did the plan change?"

"The week before, Tyler decided that scaring them and stealing a few hundred dollars wasn't enough to pay them back...for what they did. That we needed to do more to really have an impact."

"And you were ok with the new plan?"

"Not really, but...Tyler can be convincing...and they'd been assholes. And so...for the one in Sheridan...when I had him taped up, I closed my eyes and kicked him like I had been kicked that day in the locker room."

Walt looked up. "You were the one who robbed Artie's Food Depot? Where Nick works."

Dylan nodded his head.

"And afterward. What happened?"

"I didn't want to continue. But Tyler wouldn't let us stop what we'd started. He said we had to see it through. That they deserved it. I was going to bail, on Monday. I wasn't going to do it...but when I got to the gas station and saw Kyle through the window and thought about what he'd done to—" Dylan suddenly stopped.

Vic sat forward in her chair. "When you left Ace through the back door, before appearing as the intruder at the hardware store, you first went and robbed The Filling Station?"

Dylan nodded.

Walt stood and walked over to the wall, before looking over his shoulder. "Why was Kyle selected as a target? He was trying out for the football team the same year as you, so he wouldn't have been the one to attack you in the locker room."

"It wasn't me he did something to."

"Who was the third person involved in your plan, Dylan?"

Again Dylan looked down at his hands. Vic watched as he played with the cuff of his sleeve.

Walt returned to scanning their notes on the evidence wall, before turning slowly toward them.

"It was Andy, wasn't it?"

Vic whipped her head up to look over at Walt before she looked back at Dylan, whose head was still bowed.

Walt stepped forward. "Andy was the only other victim who wasn't injured during the robbery. And he told us that he quit being a manager for the football team because he wasn't interested in it anymore, but he also mentioned that the team had a number of assholes on it. Was Kyle one of those assholes. Did his hazing of Andy get out of hand?"

Dylan looked up, his eyes moist. "Yes."

XX

Leaning back in her chair, Vic stared out the window at the streetlight illuminating the sidewalk and parked cars across from the station. It was quiet out on the street, and if it weren't for the day's events, it would have been a peaceful evening. She pulled her thoughts and her focus back into the room, turning her head to look across her desk to the holding cell. Through the bars she could see both boys. Dylan was sitting on the cot, but Andy had opted to sit on the floor, his back against the wall, one leg stretched out before him, his gaze looking forward. Both had been silent since being put in the cell together.

When Branch had returned to the station with Andy, Andy's story had matched Dylan's. The plan had been Tyler's, but to keep suspicion away from Tyler, who would likely be considered a suspect because Rich was one of the victims, the other two boys had committed the robberies while Tyler created alibis for himself. Dylan was the one responsible for robbing Artie's Food Depot and The Filling Station, and Andy had robbed the Brandts' bicycle shop, Rich's Auto repair shop, and AJ's Liquors. Dylan, of course, had also acted as the intruder at Ace to help his chances that he wouldn't be considered a suspect. And Andy had staged a robbery at Exxon, with Dylan and Tyler's help, to add himself to the victim list instead of the suspect list. He'd applied for a job at the gas station specifically for this purpose. The two had even checked into the motel room next to Tyler's to give Tyler a way to come and go without it looking like he was leaving room 5. Hooded sweatshirts had kept the boys' identities hidden.

They'd also learned how Dylan and Andy had become friends. The two boys had met not at Durant High, like she and Walt had initially assumed, but through their work. It was Branch who'd put the connection together as he'd driven over to the Bowmans' to pick up Andy. He had been the one on Friday to look into Cressida, where Andy had worked, and as he had driven through the streets of Durant toward the Bowman home, he'd wondered if there was a partnership between the garden center and the hardware store that would have enabled the two to cross paths. The boys had started their jobs at both locations around the same time a few years ago, so it seemed to him like a possibility. When asked about the origin of their relationship in Walt's office, Andy admitted that he had gotten to know Dylan when he had been tasked with picking up a new mower from Ace after the one he'd been using had broken down, and was determined to be beyond repair.

The bond the boys had developed over the past few years was partly due to the bitterness they both shared toward their school's football program, and after some time they came to the realization that they'd each endured some form of bullying during their involvement with the team. When Tyler had asked Dylan to suggest a third person for their plan, Dylan had immediately thought of Andy. After sharing Andy's story with Tyler, and indicating that Kyle Walton had been the chief bully in Andy's case, Tyler decided to include Kyle as one the targets, in addition to Tuck. Once Andy had agreed to participate, Tyler had spent much of September following Kyle and Tuck around on their college campuses, and in Durant on the weekends.

Unlike Dylan, Andy's eyes had not welled up when they talked to him about what he'd done. He'd remained calm, almost detached, during their conversation, and she'd wondered if he truly didn't care that he'd hurt others or if the situation hadn't fully sunken in yet. Remembering the moment the two boys had run into each other at the station on Monday, when Andy had been coming in and Dylan had been leaving, she realized now that they'd both been pretending like they didn't know each other. She thought again about how shaken Andy had appeared at the scene of the crime, and how believable he'd been as a victim when they'd talked to him on Friday, and couldn't decide if his behavior this evening was just an act or the result of the bullying he'd endured. It was a complex situation.

"Hey, catch."

Vic turned just in time, as a white paper bag crashed into her chest, her arms automatically folding over it.

Branch leaned into the door jamb near her chair as he took a bite of the sandwich in his hand. His mouth full, he grinned at her. "Pick whichever one you want and give the other two to the boys."

The delicious smells and her rumbling stomach were too hard to ignore and she stood and opened the take-out bag. After checking her options, she selected the turkey club, and then walked across to the cell with the other sandwiches.

"Here you go. Eat up."

Neither boy rose. Vic glanced between them as she held up the bag, finally settling on Dylan, who was at least looking at her. "Come on Dylan, you both must be hungry."

After a moment Dylan lifted himself off the cot. Vic pulled the two sandwiches out of the bag so she could hand them separately to him through the bars

She glanced over at Andy, who hadn't moved, before looking back at Dylan. "Please get him to eat something. You guys have a lot ahead of you."

Dylan looked down at the sandwiches in his hands. "I'll try."

Vic watched them both for a moment longer, and then returned to her desk to claim her own sandwich. She nodded toward Branch, who was almost finished devouring his. "What did you choose?"

"Buffalo chicken."

His words came out a little distorted since his mouth was full, but she got enough to understand his answer. "Did you pick these up?"

He shook his head and swallowed. "Nope. Henry personally delivered them."

Henry had been here? She hadn't noticed him walk into the building even though she'd been staring down at the street, but she admitted she'd been a little lost in her thoughts. And he must have used Walt's private entrance, because surely she would have noticed him walking by.

Branch rolled up the wrapper from his sandwich and aimed it at the nearby garbage can. It hit the rim, and successfully dropped into the receptacle. "Henry's still here." He jabbed a thumb in the direction of Walt's office. "They're both in there huddling over a map. And they had Tom Haskill on the phone for a bit."

She absent-mindedly bit into her sandwich as she looked at the closed door. They must be discussing where Tyler might be. She took a few more bites as she wondered why Walt hadn't brought her into the conversation. Swallowing, she wrapped up the remainder of her sandwich and dropped it on her desk before heading for his office.

"Walt asked me to t—"

But she cut off Branch's sentence with a wave of her hand as she neared the door. "I'm going to talk to him for a sec."

She knocked, and when she didn't receive an answer, turned the knob and stepped in. Walt and Henry were indeed leaning over a map, quietly conversing, and neither looked up at the sound of the door opening. Feeling like an outsider to their two-person huddle, she wasn't sure how to interject.

"Uh...hey Walt. Just seeing if you need my help with anything."

Henry turned toward her as Walt looked up. "Oh...Vic..." Walt's eyes then slid to the windows. "Uh...it's getting late, and you've had a long day." His gaze returned to hers. "Branch is going to stay here and watch over the boys until midnight, and then Ferg will replace him, so you can call it a day."

"I can help with the search for Tyler."

"There's...uh...there's nothing we can really do tonight...other than calling the sheriff departments in the surrounding counties with an APB on Tyler and his truck. Branch is going to be calling the ones in the counties in Wyoming and Tom is going to call the ones just over the border in Montana. And, if Branch or Ferg learn anything at any point tonight they are going to call us. So...uh...you can head home."

"What about you? You've had a long weekend too, and should get some sleep." She noticed Henry turn to look back down at the map.

Resting his hands on his hips, Walt shifted his stance. "I will. There are a couple of sheriffs I want to call directly, and then I'm going to hand over the rest to Branch. And...uh...Branch is going to give you a ride home, since you don't have your truck."

As if on cue, Branch appeared in the doorway holding his keys. "Ready to go?"

She glanced back at Walt, who had already joined Henry in leaning over the map again, before looking back at Branch. "Um. Ok."

She gave a final look over at the desk. "Goodnight."

But they were back to their hushed talking and didn't seem to notice her slip out the door.

XX

Having really pushed herself the last fifteen minutes of her run, she bent over, hands on hips, breathing hard. She took a few steadying breaths and then straightened. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she stepped on to the road, stopping suddenly as the Bronco came into view.

Walt was parked on the street, at the end of her driveway. In the fading light, she was able to see him, even at this distance. He was looking up at her house, but making no move to get out of his truck, and she wondered how long he'd been sitting there.

She approached, studying him from the safety of the shadows. Not until she was a few yards away from his front bumper did he turn his head, his eyes landing on hers, his expression unreadable. They stayed like that, staring at each other for a moment or two, until she broke eye contact to glance down at her feet. Another pause, and then she lifted her head and walked up to the passenger side of the vehicle. When she tested the handle, she found the door unlocked, and she slid into the seat while he continued to stare out the windshield.

"Hey."

He ran his right hand along his thigh. "Hey."

Still feeling heated from her run, she began to unzip her jacket, and then thought better of it and re-zipped it. She should be stretching on the front lawn right now, as part of her cool-down routine, and was probably going to pay for it later, given the intensity of the exercise, but she stayed rooted to her seat. Running her hand across her still damp forehead, she joined him in staring out the windshield.

"You and Henry get everything figured out?" She didn't mean for her question to come out harshly. Or maybe she did a bit.

"Yeah...sorry about that."

"I felt like you were kicking me out...of _our_ case."

"I...I didn't mean to exclude you. Henry and I were just going through the trails and climbs that might be good for soloing, to see if we could narrow down the places Tyler might be."

"I know you didn't _mean_ to exclude me. But you also didn't _try_ to include me. You're so used to going it alone. Or turning to your old pal, Henry. And this not a slight on Henry. I'd include him too. But I could have helped out. I want to be someone you turn to as well."

"I had Branch drive you home because I really do think we both need some rest before we begin our search."

Her eyes flashed over to him. "But maybe you could have included me in that decision, instead of sending me home."

He ran his hand under his chin. "You're right."

Looking up at her house, she realized that she had forgotten to turn her outside light on before her run. She turned back toward him.

"You and Henry narrow in on anything?"

"We identified some potential trails and climbing locations Tyler might have gone, but it's all a guess. He could be anywhere. Tom Haskill is going to put someone outside Joanne Daniels' house in case he comes home tonight, but we really have nothing to go on."

She watched as he removed his hat and leaned back into his seat, exhaling deeply. He sucked in his lower lip and then closed his eyes.

"You ok?"

When his eyes met hers, she saw the weariness in his gaze. "Hmm...oh...um, yeah. I...I was just thinking about the boys. About..." He shook his head. "About what they must have gone through that led them to this."

"Yeah. You were right, earlier, about perpetrators sometimes also being the victims. Bullying is such a complicated situation."

He half-nodded as he ran his fingers across his lower lip.

"You aren't blaming yourself, are you?"

He shrugged. "It's my town. My school. My football program. I can't not feel somewhat responsible."

"It _was_ your school...and it _was_ your football program. Years ago. And it's _my_ town too. We can't take on the burden for everything bad that happens here."

He turned his head, still leaning against the back of his seat, and looked over at her.

She arched an eyebrow. "What? You're not going to tell me I'm right about this as well? Because I am. Right."

His slow smile was a welcome sight.

She leaned her shoulder back into her own seat and held his gaze. "Did you go home or come straight here?"

"Sort of both."

Her eyebrows arched higher. "I don't think it's physically possible to be in two places at once."

"I drove home but didn't quite make it out of my truck."

"Wanted to check up on me?"

He blinked as another slow smile lit his lips. "Yep."

"You want to come in?"

He continued to hold her gaze for a moment, before suddenly turning his head and sitting up straight. "I...I should get going. We're both tired and I..." Lifting his hat to his head, he looked over at her. "I don't want to wear out my welcome."

"I told you before that I'm not sick of you."

"Yet."

"I'm not even close to it."

"I don't want to risk it."

"I don't think it's a risk."

"You say that now."

'We've been around each other quite a bit these last few years, Walt. I think we've proven we can handle it."

"But now things are different."

She grinned. "Yes. They are. Which is why you should come in."

He leaned back into his seat, but stared out the windshield.

She decided to change the topic. "I didn't think you knew where I live. I was wondering that last Saturday when you drove me home, but that wasn't really the time to ask, given...well...you know."

"Uh..." He sat up and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. "When...uh...when you had the issue with Gorski, and stayed at my place for a night...I was...I was worried about you when you changed your mind and decided to go back to sleeping at your place. Gorski was still out there, and Sean was out of town, and I felt responsible for you not being comfortable at my place, with Lizzie showing up and everything, so I...I looked up where you live in your file, and I...uh...I drove over here...and parked outside and...just...sat here for a while."

When he turned toward her, her eyes must have grown big, because he rushed to continue his explanation.

"I know you are capable of taking care of yourself, but Gorski wasn't to be trusted, and I...I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep unless I knew you were safe."

"Was it just that once?"

"Well...uh...no. It was more than once. Only when Sean was out of town. And not every day. I switched up the days, and the times, in case Gorski was watching, so that he couldn't predict when you'd be alone."

He bowed his head slightly.

"Saying all this out loud, it sounds like I was just adding myself as another stalker to your list, but I wasn't...I wasn't watching you. I was just watching over you. I assumed you didn't know I was out here, and I didn't mean to intrude or make you feel uncomfortable."

He ran both hands along his thighs.

"And after Sean left for Australia...I was worried about you again...with you being out here by yourself. But it was also...it was also because I was thinking about you. And I'd sometimes drive over and just...sit."

"And you never thought about coming in?"

He briefly cupped the back of his neck. "I did. Especially these last months. But..."

"You had your concerns. About us...being together."

He nodded, and then slowly turned his head her way.

Reaching out, she grasped some of the fabric of his sleeve between her fingers and lightly pulled. "I think you should come in."

"I just told you of my stalker-like behavior, and you want me to come in?"

"You're not a stalker if I invite you in."

He scratched at his neck. "It's late."

"It's like eight o'clock."

"We need some rest."

"We can get some rest together."

He raised an eyebrow.

She smiled. "I'm tired too. Just come in, and we'll get a good night's sleep...together."

He blinked.

"And you can watch over me...directly. Much more comfortable than sitting out here in your truck."

She tugged on his sleeve again. "Come on." And without giving him a chance to turn down her offer again, she pulled the door handle, stepped out of the Bronco, and waited in front of the vehicle for him. She felt a surge of relief when she finally saw him pull himself out of the driver's side of the truck.

The crunch of the gravel was the only sound as they made their way up the driveway. Twice she felt his fingers graze hers as their arms swung at their sides while they walked.

In her darkened doorway, he stood close as she reached into the hidden pocket inside the band of her shorts for the key. She could tell he was looking down at her from the angle of his hat, but it was too dark to actually see his face. She could hear his soft breathing, as he took a step toward her, and then felt his pinky wrapping around hers. And then just as quickly he released her hand and stepped back to give her space to open the door.

Once inside, she fumbled for the switch, and they both blinked as light flooded the room. He removed his hat, which she took from his hand and placed, rim side up, on the nearby end table. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she hung up her coat. He copied her action, hanging his coat on the hook next to hers.

"You want a tour?"

"Uh...sure."

She waved around the room. "This is the front room. Kitchen is through there. Ready to see the upstairs?"

He smiled at her brevity.

"Yep."

She turned the downstairs light off, and guided him up the stairway. "Don't get too attached to this place. It's leased only through the end of the year. We got the house through Sean's company, so I'll need to find another place in a couple months."

"You'll be moving?"

"Yep."

They arrived at the top of the stairs, and again she ran her hand along the wall to find the light switch.

They both glanced around the room.

She pointed to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a quick shower, 'cause I'm kind of gross after my run. You can get settled."

He nodded.

She placed her phone down on the nearest side table, and then walked over to the dresser, and pulled some clothes to wear to bed from the second drawer. She turned to find Walt still rooted in the spot they'd been standing in.

"You ok?"

He blinked. "Yep."

She watched as he walked over to the end of the bed, sat down and began to pull off his boots, before heading for the shower.

When she returned to the bedroom, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and running a towel through her wet hair, she found Walt still sitting in the same position.

She walked around the bed and stepped in front of him. "Are you going to sleep fully clothed, here, at the end of the bed?"

"What? Oh, uh, no. I was just...I didn't know what side of the bed was yours."

Her eyes fell on the comforter, and then slid up to the headboard. "I haven't really had a side for a while. I'm kind of sleeping in the middle these days. I moved the bed against a different wall, and bought a new mattress and bedding. I guess I've just been changing thing up since..."

She paused, dropping her eyes.

"Since Sean left?"

She nodded. "Yep."

Her eyes still on the bed, she could tell his gaze was still directed up at her. She felt his hands slide to the back of her legs, as he lightly pulled her toward him. "I can sleep on whatever side you want me to sleep on."

She unsnapped the top snap of his shirt. "I know you sleep on the right side of your bed, so I'll take the left."

"Ok." He looked down as his fingers pulled at the hem of her shorts. "What are these?"

Her forehead creased in confusion. "Shorts."

"No they're not."

"Uh, yeah they are."

He laughed. "Well, they're extremely short shorts. Just barely shorts is more like it."

She grinned. "But they're still shorts. They may not be suitable for public consumption, but they're perfectly fine for sleeping in."

His hands climbed further up the back of her legs. "Trying to get me to change my mind about going to sleep right away?"

She grinned again. "Is it working?"

He stared up at her. "Yes."

She stepped back and away from his grasp. "Well I promised you that we'd get some rest."

She heard his soft chuckle as she made her way back to the bathroom.

Hanging her damp towel over the bar, she picked up her brush and then called out over her shoulder. "I found a new toothbrush for you, if you're interested."

Walt appeared in the doorway, wearing only his button-down and boxer shorts.

She handed him the toothbrush and toothpaste, and then leaned across the sink to rub some condensation off the mirror so she could see. With a pause, Walt looked down at the items in his hand, before moving to the end of the counter, closing the lid of the toilet and sitting down. She could feel him watching her as she brushed her hair, but when she turned toward him he dropped his chin and looked away.

"It smells good in here. You smell good."

She smiled at his words as she picked up her toothbrush and walked over to him. When she held it out in front of him he looked up.

"Can I get some of that?"

He blinked, and then seemed to remember he had the toothpaste in his hand. Unscrewing the cap, he squeezed some out for her.

"Thanks."

She returned to her spot in front of the sink, and a moment later he stepped in beside her, his toothbrush in hand.

When they both finished up, she turned off the faucet, and led the way back into the bedroom.

Slipping under the covers, she waited until he arrived at his side of the bed before turning off the lamp. Walt removed his shirt, turned off the other lamp, and slid in next to her. The dark swallowed them both up, and she listened to him get settled on his side of the mattress. A few minutes of stillness passed, and she began to wonder if he'd fallen asleep, when she was surprised by his arm suddenly sliding across her waist.

He leaned in, his lips grazing her ear. "You were amazing today."

She turned into him, and they shifted together, her head finally coming to rest on his chest near his shoulder, as his arm pulled her close.

"_We_ were amazing."


	16. Chapter 16

He felt a warm pressure against his right side, and when it finally sank in what he was leaning against, his eyes opened. He blinked, giving them a moment to adjust, taking in the blades of the still fan above, which were casting faint shadows along the ceiling. And when he turned his head, there was enough moonlight coming through the open blinds that he could see her fair hair fanned against his shoulder, almost white in the low light.

It was all new to him. Having another body lined up with his. Well not new, of course. He'd slept next to Martha for twenty-seven years. But it'd been a few years since he'd been in this position, so it felt new again.

The one night he'd spent with Lizzie, he'd woken to the smell of her making breakfast, the bed empty beside him.

Vic had been in the bathroom when he'd woken that first time. The next time, they hadn't been touching. She on her side of the bed, he on his. Yesterday morning he'd woken to a shake of his shoulder as she moved across him to sit at the edge of the couch, their slumber disrupted by Cady's arrival.

But now, here she lay, pressed up against him. It made his chest constrict, and a smile start to form.

Wanting to get a better look at her, but not wanting to wake her, he slowly shifted. She would never allow him to look at her this way, this close up, if she were awake. If she were awake, she'd give him an eye roll, or a 'God, Walt, stop,' or a push to his shoulder to avert his gaze. But she wasn't awake, so he took his chances and stared away.

Lying on his side, with his right hand holding up his head, he reached out with his left and brushed some hair away from her face. Her head was tilted toward him, and he watched the slow up and down movement of her chest.

He thought about how he had walled himself off the last few years, concluding that protecting himself, and others, from further pain was the safest way to proceed. If he didn't let others in, if he limited his exposure, his focus, his affection, to the few he'd already let in before he'd sealed up all the cracks, he'd be safe. His heart would be safe.

But, looking down at her now he knew. He knew she'd found a way in. He knew she'd found a way in long before he'd let her in. In to his thoughts, though he'd tried to push her out. In to his home, where few others had been invited in. And into his heart, where only one other woman had been granted full access before.

He stared down at her with warm eyes.

God, she was beautiful.

Again he reached out, to tuck away a few more loose strands, but this time, when he pulled his fingers away, her eyes opened. He'd been caught, his hand still in the air, his gaze squarely on her.

He waited for her to chastise him for staring at her while she'd been sleeping, but her lips stayed pressed together as her eyes scanned his face. After a moment, she reached out, her fingers landing on his chin, and then sliding up to the corner of his mouth.

"I like that." Her voice cracked in its early morning use.

"You like what?"

"Seeing you smile."

He hadn't realized he was still smiling, and it made him smile more. She grinned in return. It was that smile of hers. That genuine, light-from-within smile that got him every time, and he could feel his whole body respond in return.

He lifted his hand and ran his fingers lightly up her arm. "Did I wake you?"

She dropped her hand to the bed and blinked, her dark eyes holding his. "With your smile?"

His hand stilled. He'd meant with his shifting weight on the mattress, or his fingers as they'd touched her hair, or his unabashed staring that surely she had felt through closed eyelids. The corners of his mouth lifted further. "Yep."

She blinked, a smile still on her lips, and then she shook her head.

The warmth of her skin penetrated his hand, which lay at her elbow. "You don't normally wake up at this hour."

She arched an eyebrow. "How do you know what my Monday morning routine is? Maybe I get up early to prep for my return to work each week."

He slid his fingers slowly in the other direction along her arm. "Just a guess."

Yawning she grabbed his wrist and brought it in closer. "What time is it anyway?"

"Almost five."

She squinted and then looked back at him. "You can read your watch in this light?"

He stayed on her for a moment and then shrugged. "I saw the clock on your bed end table."

She let out a laugh. "Right."

Rolling on to her side, she propped her head on her left hand, mirroring his pose, and then slowly ran the bottom of her foot up his shin under the blankets.

"How'd you sleep?"

He paused as her foot slid a little higher up his leg. "Well."

"Even though you're up before five in the morning?"

"We went to bed before nine. That's more than eight hours of sleep."

She lightly poked his chest. "See, I told you we could get some rest together."

He grabbed her fingers. "Not to name names, Ms. Moretti, but someone has kept me up every night for over a week. You can't blame me for being a little skeptical."

"That's not true. I believe you got a full night's sleep on Tuesday night."

Walt thought back to that night in Henry's office. "Well it wasn't a _good_ night's sleep. We were sitting on Henry's couch, which is not the most comfortable thing." And he'd been worried about her, in her drunken state. And dreaming about her earlier that evening, when he'd not yet given himself permission to do so. And weighed down with the burden of wanting her but not allowing himself to go after what he wanted.

She managed to loosen his grasp on her hand and poked him in the chest again. "And I wasn't even with you a number of the nights, so you can't blame me for the whole week."

His eyes held hers. "Given everything that's happened this week, you were with me, even when you weren't there."

Her eyes closed as she exhaled deeply. "Same here."

He reached out his hand, laying it at her right hip, and then slowly ran it down the blanket, along the outside of her thigh. When he began to pull down the bedding, her eyes popped open as a small smile lit her lips.

He smiled in return as he ran his hand up to the small of her back.

Her gaze slid from his face to his arm as she reached out and ran her fingers over his scar. "That day feels like a lifetime ago..._and_ like it was just yesterday."

He watched her face. He knew exactly which day she was referring to.

She looked back up at him, her fingers still tracing circles on his skin. "One of the worst days ever. I don't think I've ever been that scared. For myself. For Sean." Her eyes dropped, falling again to the scar. "For you."

"Me either."

Her eyes flicked up. "You weren't scared. You challenged a man to a duel, for God's sake."

"I wasn't scared for myself."

Her hand stilled as she held his gaze. "But you were so calm."

"When Sean called...I don't remember leaving my place...I just found myself barreling down the road in the direction he'd sent me." There had been panic, and it had almost been blinding.

Her eyes were back on her fingers which were still on his scar. "That gun pressed into my neck. That bat in that nutcase's hands. I had nightmares for weeks."

Walt remembered Vic's reaction earlier that week as Rich Sollinger recalled being beaten with a bat by the intruder. He wondered if she still had nightmares.

He could picture her sitting across from him as the doctor sewed him up that morning. Her eyes distant. Her face, her wrists, her knuckles, red, bruised, and swollen. He reached out and ran his thumb across her eyebrow that had been cut that day. Thankfully there was no scar. And then he did what he had not been able to do in that hospital room, although he had wanted to. He leaned in and pressed his lips lightly to the area.

When he pulled back, her eyes were on his. After a moment she dropped her left hand to the bed, and then leaned in and pressed her lips to his scar. His eyes closed involuntarily. He felt her hair against his chest, and her fingers still clasping his arm, and he remembered the feel of her against him, as he finally allowed himself to pull her into an embrace that morning.

She pulled back, but not completely, their faces close. Her breathing soft. Her fingers now exploring his chest.

He felt her knee push its way between his.

He slid his hand, that was still at her back, below her shirt as he leaned in closer.

Their noses touched.

Her knee moved up his inner thighs, and her hand moved across his shoulder.

He found the hem of her shirt and tugged it upwards.

Her knee again rose further until it was pressed up against him.

He tugged her shirt higher.

She pulled their lower bodies closer, her hands dipping into the back of his boxers.

And then their chests were lined up, and he was rolling her onto her back.

Her fingers dug into his hair, and he wanted her even closer.

He pulled her shirt over her head and then brought his lips to her neck.

She said his name in his ear.

He trailed a path with his tongue to her earlobe and then felt her press her hand into his shoulder and heard her say his name again.

And then he pulled back, and heard what she must have already heard. Her cell phone ringing from the bedside table.

A grunt of frustration escaped his lips as he buried his head in the corner of her neck. "Just let it go."

Her breathing was slightly labored like his. "I need to get that. It's probably Ferg. We told him to call if something happened."

When he didn't move, she pushed against his weight. "Walt, he's probably already tried your home phone."

Grudgingly, Walt rolled off of her, and her hand darted over to the table.

"Hey Ferg."

She listened for a moment. "No, it's ok. I was awake."

Walt propped himself back on his side and began to trace a path up her arm until she swatted his hand away.

"Tyler's credit card? When?"

Walt froze. "Where'd he use it?"

She glanced up at him, her knotted eyebrows telling him to be quiet as she continued her conversation with Ferg. "At a gas station in Greybull? Really?" Which one?

Walt leaned in. "Has Ferg talked to the gas station attend-"

Vic clamped her hand over his mouth with a stern stare and then looked away.

"Have you talked to anyone at the gas station to get more details?" After a moment she looked at him and shook her head.

"Ok."

Again he leaned closer. "Tell him to-"

She turned to her right side, away from him. "You know what? I think we should give Walt a call, to loop him in." She listened to Ferg for a moment. "Yeah, I know. He doesn't tend to answer on the first call. But let me put you on hold, and I'll give it a try, and then I'll patch you in so the three of us can talk about this."

Walt watched her press the screen of her phone before turning his way. She must have seen a confused expression on his face. "Go down to my kitchen. I'll call my home phone, and as long as you talk quietly, we can have a three-way conversation without him knowing you're doing it from my house."

He was still contemplating her instructions when she gave his shoulder a little shove. He sat up while she leaned over the side of the mattress to reclaim her discarded shirt. As she pulled it over her head, he rose, picking up his clothes as he walked around he bed and crossed the room.

As he pulled his arms into the sleeves of his shirt and made his way down the stairs, he got a closer look at the front room, which he'd barely seen the previous night in their haste to go upstairs. His eyes were scanning over the room's contents when the phone rang from the kitchen.

He found the cordless handset on the counter. "Hey."

"Ok, I'll connect Ferg in."

A pause and then Walt heard Vic's voice again. "Ferg, you there?"

"Yes."

"Walt, you still there?"

Walt had the phone tucked in between his ear and his shoulder as he stepped into his jeans. "Yep."

"Ok, Ferg, I've brought Walt up to speed."

"Uh...good morning, Sheriff. Sorry for waking you this early."

"Morning. Who reported Tyler's credit card usage?" He pulled his zipper up, and then grabbed the buckle of his belt.

"Rich Sollinger called the station a little while ago."

Walt ran his hand over his face. Tom Haskill must have been successful in convincing Joanne Daniels to look up her son's transactions on his credit card that she'd co-signed.

"Ok. Ferg, when we get off, why don't you call the Big Horn County Sheriff's Office up in Basin. Ask them to head over to the gas station, and give them the description and license plate number of Tyler's truck. And send them Tyler's picture. They'll need to know what he and his vehicle look like to help track him down. Text Vic their number so we can contact their department if we need to."

"Ok."

"And then call the gas station and find out what you can. There's a chance the guy working didn't interact with Tyler if he paid at the pump, but maybe he bought something inside. See if he saw which direction Tyler was heading when he left. Maybe they have video surveillance."

"Sure."

Walt could hear Ferg scribbling notes as he took down his instructions. "While you're doing that, Vic and I will head up to Greybull."

"Ok."

"We should call Tom Haskill." It was Vic, joining the conversation. "Sheridan's closer, so they can get someone up to Greybull before we can get there. And then when we arrive, if they haven't located him, we can help expand the search."

Walt nodded into the phone. "Ok. We'll call Tom as we head out. And Ferg..."

"Yep?"

"Catch Branch up when he gets in later this morning. And if you need any help, call him in early."

"I will."

Walt paused. "And thanks Ferg. For working the overnight shift."

There was another pause. "Uh...you're welcome."

"Keep us posted if you learn something."

"Sure thing."

Vic came in again. "Hey Ferg, text me the address of the gas station when we hang up."

"Sure, Vic."

"Thanks, Ferg."

Walt turned the phone off and placed it on the counter. Buttoning his shirt, he turned to find Vic reaching the bottom of the stairs, fully dressed, his boots in her hand.

She looked up at him as he joined her in the front entranceway. "Why don't you head back to your place, shower and change. I'll make us some coffee, scrounge us up some breakfast for the two of us, and then head your way."

She placed his boots on the floor and turned to get his coat from where it hung on the wall. Bending over and pulling the first boot on, he looked up at her. "Are you implying that I need a shower?"

She grinned as she reached for the door knob, and he reached for his other boot. "It could be a long day. Might as well start it off on a good note."

He straightened, taking his coat from her hand. "It already started off on a good note."

Her eyes sparkled. "Until Ferg called."

He nodded as he slipped his coat on. "Yep, until Ferg called."

Turning, he scooped up his hat from the end table and flipped it over and then on to his head. Rotating back toward the door, he found Vic propping the screen open.

He stepped in front of her. "Ok."

She smiled up at him, tapping his boot with the front of hers. "Ok."

Stepping closer, he hooked his finger into the top of her jeans, to the right of her buckle. "I'll go take my shower."

She copied his hold on her by hooking her finger into his jeans and giving a tug.

A crunching, scraping sound behind him made him jump slightly, and on instinct he pulled his hand away and took a step back. He slowly turned to look over his shoulder. Vic's neighbor was dragging a trash bin to the end of his driveway.

His eyes returned to Vic. "Ok. I'll, umm...I'll see you in a bit."

With her hands now resting on her hips, she pursed her lips. "Ok."

He turned and headed for his truck.

XX

Walt placed Vic's phone in one of the cupholders in the middle console of her truck. "Tom's deputy stationed across the street from Joanne Daniels' house confirmed that Tyler hasn't shown up at home."

Staring at the road through her aviator sunglasses, she nodded, her lips twisted in thought. "So he left the gas station, and we have no idea what direction he's headed in."

"Tom said they have deputies from the Lovell office covering highway 310, in case he's headed north, back to Billings, as well as deputies from the Basin office covering the southern path down highway 20, if he's headed that way."

"Well they haven't found him on either of those routes, which means what?"

"He's still in Greybull. Or..."

She finished his sentence, as she scanned the surrounding mountains. "Or he's here, somewhere in the Big Horn National Forest."

"Route 14 is the only road through this part, and neither Tom nor we have crossed his path."

She looked over at him. "Maybe he is back in Greybull. Eating breakfast at some diner, like he did at The Bee last Monday morning."

He nodded, his eyes on the trees. "Maybe. They have some deputies driving the streets in the surrounding area, looking for his truck."

"So what's our plan?"

"Tom and a couple of his Sheridan deputies are in Greybull, asking around, trying to determine if Tyler stayed at a motel or nearby campground, and looking for anyone who might know where he's headed. We'll meet up with them and compare notes."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Vic try to mask a yawn. When she realized she'd been caught, she grinned. "Can we find that diner and stop for some more coffee?"

"We can stop in Shell if you want some caffeine sooner than Greybull."

Vic pointed toward the back of the truck with a jab of her thumb. "I saw a sign a little while back saying the Shell Creek Rest Stop is coming up ahead. And something about an Interpretive Center. Won't they sell some coffee there?"

"Interpretive Site. But it will be closed, since it's October."

He picked up the plastic bag from the floor near his feet, containing the food she'd put together for their road trip. "You want another snack?"

She glanced over at him. "A granola bar sounds good."

He pulled out two options. "There's one with chocolate and peanuts. And one with almonds and cranberries."

She arched an eyebrow as she placed an open hand in front of him. "Is it even a question?"

With a laugh, he placed the obvious choice in her palm.

As he slid the non-chocolate bar back into the sack, something red caught his eye, and he reached in and pulled the small bag out.

"I didn't realize Skittles fell into the breakfast category."

She laughed. "Hey, you never know when you need a portable, sweet pick-me-up."

She snatched the candy from his hands and stuffed it in her pocket. "I bet you'll be asking me for some when we're into hour twelve of our search, and dinner is nowhere in sight."

He grinned, dropping the bag of food near his feet and returning his gaze to the trees along the road. A sign announcing the Shell Falls Interpretive Site caught his attention, and he scanned the empty parking lot as they passed the entrance.

Something twinkled in the early morning sun.

"Vic. Stop."

Vic slammed on the brakes, and he braced himself as he slid forward and his seatbelt tightened before sending him back into his seat.

Vic eyes were on him immediately. "What?"

"I think I saw Tyler's truck."

"Where?"

"At the side of the lot. I almost missed it."

Vic put the truck in reverse, and then looked over her shoulder as she backed the vehicle up to the entrance. As she braked again and put the truck into drive, Walt placed a hand on her arm."

"Wait. If he's in the truck, I don't want to alarm him. Dylan said Tyler's the one who has the gun. We don't know if he has it with him." He looked over his shoulder. "Reverse a little further. I saw a pull-off area a little back."

She continued reversing down the road, sliding into the dirt pull-off when it came into view.

He opened the door and extracted himself from the passenger seat. Vic was standing on her side, looking at him across the roof of the truck as she tucked her sunglasses into her shirt. She reached back inside and came out with her phone. "Do you want your Winchester?"

Walt looked at his rifle through the back seat window and then shook his head. "No."

They both closed their doors and met at the front of the truck, before making their way back down the road toward the entrance to the rest area.

When the grey Chevy came into sight, he looked over at Vic. Her hand was at her holster, and she nodded, indicating the path she would take. He nodded in the other direction. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, they approached the vehicle.

Walt reached the truck first, and saw immediately that the cab was empty. "Tyler's not here."

"You sure it's his truck?"

"Yep. I checked the plate." Stepping toward the bed of the truck, a flash of fur provided further evidence they had the right vehicle. "And it looks like he has Jessica's dog with him."

The dog came over to the edge, and Walt reached out and rubbed his head. "Bear?"

He received a wag of the tail in confirmation, as the dog dipped his head under Walt's hand to be pet again. Walt complied as he looked over at Vic.

Vic pulled on the driver-side handle. "The door's locked." She stepped back and scanned the parking lot and then looked over at the nearby buildings. "There's a sign over there saying there's a path to Shell Falls. Should we follow him?"

Walt walked around the bed of the truck and joined her side. "I don't think that's a good idea. We're not prepared for hiking like he is. He has the gear and the supplies. We don't. We don't know how long of a hike he's on." He looked beyond the nearby building. "Plus, that's not the only path. And he might not have stayed on the path even if he did head towards the falls. We could end up searching in the wrong direction, and completely miss him."

"So we just wait here? It could be hours."

"He doesn't know we're looking for him, so he's going to return to his truck at some point."

Lifting her hand to shield her eyes, she stepped forward and did a 360 degree scan of the area. "I think we should do our stakeout from the bench over there by the building. We'll have a good view of his truck, but we'll be out of his direct line of site when he returns from whatever path he took. We'll see him before he sees us."

She turned toward him to gauge his reaction.

The corners of his mouth lifted. "Sounds like a good plan."

"You ready? Could be a long stakeout."

Copying his move from that morning, he reached out and hooked his finger into the top of her jeans. "Ready."

She arched an eyebrow. "We're working."

"Technically it's before the time we'd usually start working on a Monday morning."

Her eyebrow rose higher. "Technically we _are_ working. We're staking out a suspect's vehicle."

He tugged her closer. "There's no one around."

"So, when no one's around, even though we're working, you get all handsy, but when we're off hours, and my neighbor decides to bring his trash out to the curb at an ungodly hour, you hold back? Even though he probably couldn't see us in the dark?"

He bowed his head. "Sorry. Instinct. I...I guess I wasn't ready for others to know our business."

"Your truck was parked at the end of my driveway overnight. And you were leaving my house at five in the morning. If any of my neighbors saw that, they probably already have a good idea of the nature of our relationship."

He leaned back against the truck. "You're right."

She stepped in between his legs. "Of course I am."

Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his. This time it was his eyebrow that arched when she pulled back. "We're working."

"Technically, I'm on a break." She stepped back with a grin. "I need to pee." She pivoted and started toward the buildings, calling out to him over her shoulder. "I'm going to go see if the bathrooms are open even though the visitor center is closed."

Walt watched her retreating back until she disappeared behind the second building.

Closing his eyes, images from their time in bed that morning surfaced, and he sifted through the memories until he felt a nudge at his shoulder. He turned to find Bear peering up at him.

With a pat to the dog's head, Walt leaned into the bed of the truck to take a closer look at its contents. His eyes landed on a red baseball cap. He picked it up, and turned it around. It was a Casper College T-Birds hat, as he'd suspected back at The Busy Bee. Walt wondered if Tyler had picked up the cap when he was stalking Kyle Walton on campus to learn more about him and his schedule.

He tucked the hat into his pocket.

As he turned and started heading toward the bench, he heard a whine come from behind him. He looked over his shoulder at the dog, lifting his hand. "Stay. I'll just be over there."

The dog rested his paws on the side of the truck as if he were considering jumping out.

Walt gestured down with his hand. "Sit."

The dog didn't move.

He kept his eyes on the dog as he crossed the lot.

Once seated, he gestured with his hand again. "See, I'm not going anywhere. Sit."

After a moment, the dog did as instructed.

Walt looked down at his watch. Vic was sure taking her time.

He looked around, and when his gaze landed on a map of the area, he stood and walked over.

He scanned the map and then paused. It had been a while since Vic had set out to look for a bathroom. What if she had decided to take the path toward the falls, in search of Tyler?

He looked at the map again and located the bathroom, and then headed in that direction at a fast clip.

He found the women's bathroom unlocked, but empty. Stepping back outside, his eyes darted around the area. "Vic."

No response.

He tried a little louder. "Vic."

Again silence greeted him.

He looked around, and this time his eyes landed on something shiny. Vic's sunglasses, perched on a ledge.

His stomach clenched. She loved those sunglasses, and wouldn't just leave them.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember the layout from the map. The path to the falls was the closest path, but that didn't necessarily mean that's where she was.

He headed back toward Tyler's truck at a sprint. No one was there, but at his approach, Bear stood up in the bed of the truck.

Walt turned around in a circle, looking for movement. Nothing.

And then he went into a run back to Vic's truck. But when he pulled at the driver-side handle he found the door locked. She had the keys. Which meant his Winchester, and the CB radio, were locked inside. He had no way to call for back-up.

He ran again, this time to the start of the trail leading to the falls. "Vic."

Silence.

It's times like these, she'd remind him, that a cell phone would be handy.

He took a few calming breaths, and then scanned the path. And that's when he saw it. A red Skittle. It could just be a coincidence. The candy could have been dropped long ago. But they kept the Big Horn National Forest pretty clean, even in the off season. And Vic happened to have a bag of the candy in her pocket. And he didn't believe in coincidences.

He pulled his gun from its holster, his eyes alternating between looking around and scanning the path.

And then he found the second Skittle. An orange one.

His heart began beating faster, and his thoughts were sifting through all sorts of scenarios.

And then he saw the yellow Skittle. But this one was just off the path. Had she gone off the path? Had she spotted Tyler, and was following him, leaving a candy path for Walt so he could follow her? Or had Tyler spotted her, and was forcing her to go-off path with him?

He gripped his Colt tighter, and then stepped off the path.

The Skittles came more frequently, as if she knew it would be harder to follow her now that there wasn't an established trail guiding the way.

He followed the markers she'd left, trying to keep his gun poised and ready, while also trying to keep his footing. Scanning for Skittles, staying on the alert and not falling down the mountain was a difficult combination, but it forced him to stay focused on the task at hand, and not on the fear building within him.

And then the Skittle path ended, or at least he couldn't locate the next one.

The fear surged. He shook his head. Think.

And then he heard it. The snap of a tree branch. And then another.

He whipped around, his gun aimed and at the ready.

Bear stood staring up at him.

Walt exhaled. "Go back." He gestured in the direction the dog had come from. Bear didn't budge.

And then he remembered that German Shepherds were good trackers. He reached into his pocket, pulled out Tyler's baseball cap, knelt down and held it out to Bear. If Vic was tracking Tyler, or if Tyler had Vic with him, his scent would be on the trail.

Bear approached Walt's hand, and sniffed the hat.

Walt stood. "Find Tyler."

Bear stayed rooted in place. Maybe Tyler hadn't taken this path. Or maybe the dog had never been trained to track.

Walt waved the hat. "Come on Bear, find Tyler."

And then Bear was off, in the opposite direction than he'd come. Walt took chase, with a glimmer of hope the dog had picked up the scent.

And then he came across a yellow Skittle, and then a purple one. They were back on the path.

He followed the dog further into the forest. When the Skittle path abruptly came to an end once again, Bear stopped. Walt followed suit and looked around. Nothing stirred.

He was about to urge Bear to continue, when the dog's ears pulled back. And then he heard it too. The faint sound of someone talking. He couldn't make out if there were two voices or one.

Bear looked ready to pounce, so Walt placed his hand on him, and gently pushed him into a seated position. "Stay," he whispered.

Quietly Walt advanced toward the sound, alert, and looking for any sign of movement. And then the voices stopped and he stopped in his path. He looked back at Bear and again gave him the hand signal to 'stay.'

Then he turned, and continued until he came upon a small clearing. And there sat Vic, her hands tied behind her, sitting on a rock near a steep incline. He tried to will her to look up and see him, but she kept her head bent.

He took a step toward her.

"That's close enough, Sheriff."

Vic's head snapped up, and he caught her eye just as Tyler stepped forward, with a gun pointed in Walt's direction.

"Put the gun down Sheriff."

"I was going to say the same thing to you, Tyler. I've got years of training and experience on you, so I can guarantee my aim and timing are better than yours."

Tyler quietly watched him for a moment. "Well I have something you don't have."

"What's that?"

"Leverage." And with that, he pointed the gun at the back of Vic's head. "And I think my aim is pretty good from back here."

They both stared at each other. "Put the gun down, Sheriff. I know you don't want me to hurt her."

"I don't think you can do it."

"You don't? I just said my aim is pretty good from this distance."

"I mean, I don't think you have it in you to do it. Shoot somebody."

"And why is that?"

"Because you didn't commit any of the robberies yourself. Which meant you didn't have to hurt anyone directly."

"I already told you that I wasn't the one who robbed the stores. I was hiking both days. It had nothing to do with me being capable of violence or not."

"We know you were involved in the robberies, Tyler. And you know that we know. Why else would we be out here, trying to find you, if we didn't have proof?"

Tyler laughed. "You don't have proof. And I have alibis."

"Dylan and Andy told us everything. They said the whole thing was your idea."

Tyler blinked, and then looked off to the side. "Well I guess it's their word against mine."

"We know about the burner phones, Tyler."

Tyler looked back at him, but said nothing.

"The boys said the three of you used them to communicate with each other."

Tyler remained silent.

"They said you instructed them to toss them on Monday. But guess what? Andy kept his. I think he wanted a little insurance. So that you'd have a little skin in the game if things went south, since they were doing all the heavy lifting."

Tyler sucked in his lower lip, and then stepped forward, pushing the barrel of the gun into Vic's neck. "I'm warning you, Sheriff, put down the gun. I will shoot."

Walt saw Vic flinch, and her eyes go large. He thought back to the standoff outside the Gilbert compound, and a similar look on her face as Chance held a gun to her.

"You will not hurt Deputy Moretti."

"I won't. Why is that?"

"She's my partner. I won't let you."

"Because she's your partner? It has nothing to do with your feelings for her?"

Walt eyed the boy.

"You love her, don't you?"

Walt's jaw tensed.

"I saw you back in the parking lot. The two of you standing by my truck, all lovey dovey. Admit it. You love her."

Walt was trying his best to avoid Vic's eyes.

"I saw her kiss you, and how you stared at her ass as she walked away." Tyler turned his head slightly toward Vic, and pressed the gun in further. She flinched again. "If you were wondering if your man here is an 'ass' man or a 'legs' man, I'd put my money on 'ass.' Or maybe it's both. I have no proof that he's not also into legs."

"Yes."

Tyler's eyes flew over to his. "Yes, you're an 'ass' man or yes you're into both?"

Walt stared back at him.

Tyler grinned. "Oh, you mean yes to my original question."

Again Walt's jaw tensed. Again he refrained from looking over at Vic.

Tyler pressed the gun into Vic's neck again. "Say it."

"Yes."

"I mean say that you love her."

"I love her."

"See, that wasn't too hard. People deserve to hear it." He looked between the two. "Was that the first time you said it out loud, in front of her?"

Walt paused. "Did someone not tell you they love you, Tyler?"

The boy's eyes flicked back to him.

"Did you love someone who didn't say they loved you in return?"

Tyler took in a breath. "We're not talking about me. We're talking about you, Sheriff. Did you mean what you said? Do you love your deputy here, or were you just saying it to appease me?"

Walt paused again. "I meant it."

"And did you just come to the realization now, when I asked? Is that why you hadn't admitted it before?"

"No."

"How long have you known, Sheriff? How long have you known how you felt about Deputy Moretti?"

He didn't even need to count back. "Six-and-a-half months."

Walt remembered the fear he'd felt when Sean called and told him what had happened. The blind panic, made worse when he arrived at the scene and realized how close the car accident was to the Gilbert compound.

"Six-and-a-half months? You knew you were in love with her six-and-a-half months ago, and you didn't tell her? Why not?"

And then Walt finally looked at her, briefly, before dropping his gaze. "I couldn't, at the time."

"Why not?"

"Vic knows why not."

"Well, I don't, so tell me."

Walt looked up at Tyler. "Did your father not tell you he loved you, Tyler, before he left? Is that what this is about?"

"I told you we weren't talking about me." There was a slight edge to Tyler's voice.

"Or are we talking about your mother's boyfriend?"

"Shut up."

"Or maybe we're talking about a girl."

"I've got a gun trained on your girlfriend, Sheriff. You need to shut up when I tell you to shut up."

"I'll put my gun down, Tyler. As a sign of good faith."

Walt lowered his gun to the ground. "See, now it's your turn."

"I don't think so. I'd lose my leverage."

Walt took a step forward.

"Stay where you are."

"Who's the girl, Tyler? Who's the girl who didn't love you back?"

"I told you to shut up."

"Is it Jessica Suarez?"

Tyler shuffled his feet, but said nothing.

"I met Jessica yesterday. Did you know that? She was worried about you. She said you are good friends."

The boy's silence continued.

"Do you like her more than a friend, Tyler?"

Still no response.

"Have you told her how you feel?"

Still unable to get a reaction from Tyler, Walt switched tactics.

"I met some other folks, that both you and Jessica know. Cody Pierce. And Bryce Sullivan." He watched Tyler closely. "And Evan Brandt."

He saw Tyler press his lips together.

"I saw a picture of Jessica up on Evan's wall when we stopped by the Brandt store. Turns out the three of you were all at a bike clinic together, back in May. Nick Waters too."

Walt didn't even wait for a response before continuing.

"Dylan told us you were pretty pissed to see Evan and Nick that day. He said that they did something to you in high school. What did they do? Why'd you want to retaliate?"

Tyler's jaw seemed to tense.

"And did something happen recently? Why retaliate four years later?"

"I saw his picture up on her wall."

Walt tried to mask his surprise that Tyler had responded. "Whose picture? On whose wall?"

"Evan's. She had a picture of the two of them up on her wall."

Walt knew which picture he was talking about. He'd seen the picture of Evan and Jessica on Jessica's wall yesterday. He'd even pointed it out to her.

"Jessica said you stopped by her dorm room a couple weeks ago, trying to coax her into joining your group on your trip to Devils Tower this weekend. She said you started acting strange out of the blue."

"I didn't know for sure if they were involved, but when I stopped by her room, she had his picture on her wall."

"And so you decided to get back at him?"

"He doesn't deserve her."

"What did Evan and Nick do to you freshman year at Sheridan High? Dylan told us something happened. Your mother said you came home from school and locked yourself in your room, and then focused on losing weight with a vengeance. What happened?"

Tyler clamped up again.

"Did they pull a prank on you? Mac told us you got really upset with another kid in your Trailhead group for pulling a prank on a new member. Did Evan and Nick pull a prank on you back in high school?"

This time Walt let his question hang in the air.

"They stole my clothes. I was in the shower, and they went into my locker and stole my clothes. And my towel."

"They embarrassed you in front of the rest of the boys in the change room?"

"They humiliated me in front of the whole school! Evan had his phone with him and took a picture of me. And Nick posted it online for the whole school to see."

Walt paused. "I'm sorry Evan. That was a cruel thing for them to do."

"And he didn't even remember me when I saw him at the clinic in May. He ruined my life, and I wasn't even a blip in his."

"Is that when you started to think about how to get back at the two of them? You decided to take some time off school, and focus on coming up with a plan?"

"When I got back from the clinic, it was all I could think about. I couldn't focus on anything else."

"What about your mother's boyfriend? Why include Rich in your plans? What did he do? He seems like a decent guy."

Tyler laughed. "Decent guy? He's a shit. He's been a shit for the nine years I've known him."

Walt waited for him to continue.

"Do you know what it's like having your mother's boyfriend move in, and treat you like shit? No, he didn't hurt me, if that's what you're wondering, but do you know what it's like having someone call you a 'shithead, and a 'lardass,' for nine years? I'm not even fat anymore! I lost the weight four years ago! I'm half the size I was, and in better shape than he is, and he keeps calling me a 'fatso.' To my face."

Tyler was crying now.

Walt glanced over at Vic. "Tyler, put down the gun."

"And then, when I told my mom I needed to take a break from school, do you know how hard he rode my ass? He doesn't even have a college degree. And he's not my father, and here he was, on my case acting like he was."

Tyler was shaking now, and Walt was worried about the gun going off accidentally.

"Tyler, put down the gun. Let's talk about this, but without the gun."

"And she takes his side, my mom. Well maybe she doesn't take his side, but she certainly doesn't take mine. He treats me like shit, and calls me these names in front of her, and she never says anything. I think she's afraid of him leaving, or of being alone. So she says nothing. I was only a kid, and she did nothing."

Tyler's arm was shaking, and so was the gun.

Walt stepped forward.

"I said to stay where you are, Sheriff!" Tyler was shouting now, and he steadied the gun and jammed it back into Vic's neck. The look of fear was wild in her eyes, and Walt tried his best to keep that same look of fear out of his own, lest he scare her more.

"Tyler, please."

Tyler wouldn't look at him.

"Please put down the gun. I'm on your side."

"No you're not. You're a cop, and you just want to take me in."

"I'm on your side. I'm not lying. I haven't lied to you yet. Well other than saying that Rich is a decent guy. I agree with you. He's an asshole. I knew that from the first time we talked to him."

Tyler looked up at him.

"I want to take you in, Tyler, because you need help. You've been through a lot, and you need to talk this through with someone. I want to help you find that someone to talk to. So please put down the gun so I can help you."

"And so I don't shoot your girlfriend."

Walt nodded, as he took another step forward. "And so you don't shoot my girlfriend."

Another step, and he was in front of Tyler. He reached out and lowered Tyler's arm, and then took the gun from his hand.

"It's ok, Tyler. I'm on your side."

XX

Her right leg was shaking. It had been doing that the entire time they'd been seated in front of Tom Haskill's desk. Although she'd provided answers to Tom's questions, they'd been short responses, and Walt had been the one carrying the conversation. And doing his best to not constantly be glancing over at her.

She'd been quiet the entire drive from Shell Creek to Sheridan. With Tyler in the back seat, Walt couldn't probe to see how she was really doing. He was definitely concerned. Being held captive, and at gunpoint, twice, would not be an easy thing for anyone.

Tom Haskill had already been on 14, headed in their direction, when they'd arrived back at Vic's truck and called him. They'd agreed to meet at the Sheridan office, to hand Tyler over, and give Tom a detailed account.

And now, here they were, bringing Tom up to speed.

And her leg was still shaking.

And with Tom there, he couldn't ask her how she was doing. Not the way he wanted to, anyway.

Tom finally pushed back in his chair, crossing his arms as he looked back and forth between them. "I should probably let both of you go. It's been a long week, especially for the two of you, and you deserve some rest."

He stood. "Let me get a few forms for you to sign, and then you can be on your way. If we need any additional information, I'll give you a call."

With a quick glance in Vic's direction, Walt stood. "Ok."

"Great. I'll be right back."

Walt watched Tom make his way to the door before turning back to Vic. He took a seat, and then after a moment, reached out and placed his hand on her knee. "How are you doing?"

Pushing back her chair, she stood and walked over to the window behind Tom's desk. "I'm fine."

He didn't believe her, and with a quick glance at the open door, he stood and joined her side.

"Vic. Come on. That was a scary ordeal."

"I'm fine, Walt."

She didn't look fine. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "How are you doing?"

When she cast her gaze down toward the floor, her lower lip trembling, he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her. She stilled for a moment, her forehead resting against his chest, and then pulled back. "Walt, the door is open. Someone will see."

"It's ok."

"Tom will be back soon with those forms."

"Vic, it's ok." He pulled her toward him again.

She didn't pull back, but she remained rigid, until her shoulders started to shake. After a bit, she stilled, and then her arms slowly slid around him. "I'm getting your shirt all wet with my snot."

He laughed into her neck. "It's ok. It's not one of my favorites."

She lifted her head, her eyes moist as she looked up at him. "I love this shirt."

"Well then stop making a mess of it." The corners of his mouth turned upward.

She blinked. "You're just trying to distract me."

Remembering her words from the night before, he grinned. "Is it working?"

Her smile reached her eyes. "Yes."

She lowered her head into his chest again. "Seriously, Tom's going to be back any moment."

"It's ok. He knows you had a rough time out there."

Her arms tightened around him.

"Besides, I think he knows there's something going on between us."

She pulled back again. "You do?"

"He's a good detective, and nothing much gets by him. Plus, he's known me for years, and I'm pretty sure he senses there's something different about me recently."

Vic's dark eyes stayed on him. "I love you too, Walt."

His breath caught. "You don't need to say it just because I did."

"I'm not saying it just because you did. I'm saying it because it's true. I love you."

And he knew he was smiling because she was smiling back at him. "Well, just remember who said it first."

Her eyebrow arched. "Tyler."

He laughed, and then she laughed, and his heart soared.

And as he pulled her back into an embrace, he caught a glimpse of Tom trying to quietly drop off the papers on the back table before ducking back out of the room.

Yep, Tom definitely knew.

* * *

**Thanks for sticking with this story. One more chapter to go. :)**


	17. Chapter 17

EPILOGUE

The air coming through the vents was finally warm, and she rubbed her fingers together in front of them. She'd pulled into a spot a little while ago, but had stayed in her truck, unwilling to step out until she'd spotted someone she recognized. Standing alone in the cold did not sound appealing.

There had been frost lightly blanketing the grass when she'd awoken that morning, and with darkness settling in, the chill had returned. There was still a week left in October, but it was already cold, so she just knew they were in for a rough winter. At the rate it had taken for her truck to warm up on her drive over, she probably needed to have someone take a look at the heater, before the deep freeze began.

Pulling the zipper of her coat higher, she scanned the parking lot through her windshield. There were more cars than she'd expected, and more people concentrated in one area than she'd seen in a while. Maybe she'd have to get out of her truck to actually find someone she knew.

And then she saw two familiar faces. She watched as they moved in sync toward the entrance, wrapped up in their conversation. The taller one held her attention. She lingered on his easy gate, and his relaxed posture, and his occasional smile, savoring her uncensored view from a distance. It wasn't often that she got to watch him without him realizing, or the concern that prying eyes would catch on, but this week she'd racked up an unexpected number of opportunities. Last Friday she'd had a chance to briefly take him in as he waited for her in the high school's front office. She'd been able to read his tension, even from her position in the hallway. Monday night, when he'd taken her home, after she'd agreed to sit at the kitchen table while he made her dinner, she'd had another chance to watch him. He'd been focused on chopping, and stirring, and coordinating multiple pans on the stove, but he had looked over at her from time to time, his concern evident. Now, as she watched him, he looked more at ease than he had in a long while. For a moment she forgot the cold. For a moment she just enjoyed the view.

A short distance from the gate both men paused, their heads turning in the same direction. She leaned forward in her seat to see who they had encountered.

Henry.

She watched as Walt clapped Henry on the shoulder. She could only imagine how Lucian was greeting him, knowing the former sheriff's proclivity for intentionally mixing up Henry Standing Bear's name. But Henry seemed to bear it well, an unwavering smile on his face. And then all three men turned their heads as AJ joined the group and immediately shook each man's hand.

Her door creaked as she opened it, and after reluctantly pulling her fingers away from the heating vent, she turned off the engine, placed her booted left foot on the pavement and stepped out. She was momentarily thrown by the cold air hitting her lungs, and causing her eyes to smart. She cursed herself for forgetting her gloves at home. Closing the door, she jammed both hands into her pockets.

As she walked between the rows of cars, she looked off into the distance. The sky was clear, the last light fading on the horizon as the day's blue transitioned to black. It would only get colder throughout the night, with no cloud-cover to hold in the heat. She pulled her zipper all the way up with a shiver.

Still a little way out, she saw two more familiar faces approach the group. As they neared, Henry looked over his shoulder, and then stepped to the side to give them space to join them. More handshakes and hugs were distributed, and when they all stepped back, the six individuals formed a circle. She could sense the years of familiarity between them, and wondered what it would be like to have close friends for that long. She also felt a pang of discomfort at being an intruding outsider.

And then Walt's head turned in her direction, and a smile spread across his face. Cady, who stood to his right, turned as well, lifting her hand to wave. "Vic!" The two Longmires each took a step back and gestured for her to join them.

When she made it to their sides, she was greeted by smiles and welcoming words. She felt Walt's fingers lightly graze hers before he pulled them away, and when she looked up at him he smiled.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How was your day—"

"Vic...". Cady's voice cut in, interrupting his question. Vic turned to her right. "I want to introduce you to—"

"Theresa. Yes. We've met."

Vic nodded at the woman standing to Cady's right. Theresa stepped forward and held out her hand. "But Walt never formerly introduced us. Hi, Vic. Sorry I was in such a rush to leave last time we saw each other."

"And I'm sorry I interrupted your time together."

"You didn't. Not at all." It was impossible not to respond to the warm smile Theresa directed her way.

Lucian stepped into the middle of the circle. "Alright, alright, enough of this yammering. I'm freezing my keester off. Let's go find some seats." And he turned and headed for the entrance.

As the group began to move toward the field, Henry stepped toward her. "I am glad you could join us, Vic."

She thought back to her interactions with Henry the previous week, and wondered how much he knew about her and Walt, and where things stood with them. He leaned in closer so that only she could hear. "I am also glad you two were able to work things out."

Well that answered that.

She bowed her head, her cheeks slightly flushing. "Did Walt say something?"

Henry's expression was unmistakable. Of course Walt hadn't. "He did not need to. Knowing he had invited you tonight, and that you had agreed to come, was evidence enough."

"Who do you think Jameson is going to start?" It was AJ, pulling Henry back into conversation. Henry gave Vic a nod, before turning away.

Cady was the next to saddle up to her side. "So...first game."

Vic smiled. "Yep. Do you go to a lot of games?"

"I've been going to Durant High games for as long as I can remember. Dad and Henry always seemed to fit in at least a game or two each year, and brought me along. It's been fun returning to that tradition now that I've moved back."

At the bottom of the bleacher steps, Vic looked over her shoulder and saw Walt and Theresa chatting a few feet behind them, before turning back to Cady. "Cady, I'm...I'm sorry about Sunday morning. I never meant for you to find out that way—"

"Vic, it's ok."

"And I hope you know Walt wasn't trying to keep anything from you."

"I know."

"And if you're not ok—"

"I'm ok, Vic." She glanced back at her father, before directing her gaze back at Vic. "I'm more than ok."

Up ahead, Lucian had selected the row they were going to sit in, and now waited for them to reach his side. When Cady was still two steps down he gave her a smile. "You going to sit beside me kiddo?" He pulled back one side of his coat. "I brought a flask of the good stuff to help keep us warm."

Reaching his side, Cady threw her arm around his shoulder with a laugh. "Of course."

Cady stepped into the row after Lucian, followed by Theresa, Henry and AJ.

As Vic moved into the row and then turned to face forward, she felt Walt step in beside her, his fingers lightly brushing hers. She looked over at him, and found his eyes scanning the field, a slight smile on his lips.

"I'm glad you could come."

Enjoying the warmth of him at her side, she followed his gaze. "Me too."

After a few moments, she felt the cold air against her hand, and realized Walt had moved to his left, putting a little more distance between them. She sat down and he followed suit. "How was Sheridan?"

"Tom says hello, and wanted to know how you were doing. I told him you finally listened to me and took a few days off."

"Did you tell him that I only agreed to it, because you agreed to take some time off as well?"

Walt grinned as he turned to face her. "How was your first day back?"

"Kind of a letdown with no active cases, and you up in Sheridan County for the day." She looked around, noticing the bleachers were filling up. "Did you get a chance to see the boys?"

"We did."

"And?"

"Walt?"

Walt turned to his left, and Vic looked up. She didn't recognize the man standing at the end of the aisle, but apparently Walt did. He stood up with a smile, extending his hand. "Steve."

Steve clapped Walt on the shoulder. "What have you been up to?"

"That's Steve Richardson."

Vic turned her head toward AJ. "Who is Steve Richardson?"

"We went to high school together. He was a year behind us. His son is a senior here, and plays left tackle for the team."

"Football bonds you guys together, forever, doesn't it?"

AJ nodded. "I guess it does."

Vic rotated even more so that she was facing him. "How's Tuck doing?"

"He's..." AJ paused. "He's taking it day-by-day. Doctors say he's out for the rest of the season, but with rehab, they're thinking he could return for his senior year. He heads back to school on Monday."

She gave him a comforting smile. "That's good to hear."

He placed his hand on her arm. "Walt told me how instrumental you were in solving the case." He squeezed lightly before letting go. "Thank you. I can sleep better at night knowing the boys who did this to Tuck and the others aren't still out there."

Vic blushed. "Thanks, but it wasn't all me." She glanced over at Walt, who was still wrapped up in his conversation. "Walt definitely did more than his fair share."

"Yeah, but he said you found some critical evidence and made some key connections that cracked the case wide open." He lifted a bag from the bleacher beside him. "I want to give you something. In appreciation for what you did for Tuck and me."

She looked at him in confusion. "What I did?"

"I didn't know what Tuck was going through. He hadn't opened up to me. Walt said you were the one who put the pieces together and figured out how Tuck and Evan were connected, and then the two of you got Tuck to open up about what had been going on since the accident."

"Oh...um..."

AJ held out the bag. "We want you to have this."

Vic hesitantly reached out and took the package from him. She then plunged her hand into the bag and pulled out a hooded sweatshirt, with the words 'Durant High School' on the front.

"It belonged to Olivia, my wife."

Vic immediately held the sweatshirt out to him. "Oh, I couldn't possibly—"

"Please. Tuck and I talked about it, and we want you to have it. We've been packing up Olivia's clothes this week. When we heard you were coming to your first game tonight, we thought it would be right to give it to you."

Moved by the gesture, Vic looked down at the sweatshirt.

"Plus, you're the only one not wearing any Durant gear yet, so you might as well put it on so you don't get confused as a Douglas High fan."

Vic looked up at AJ's smiling face, and then glanced over at Walt as he slid in next to her. "Walt doesn't seem to be wearing any fan gear."

Walt grinned. "I'm wearing Durant socks."

AJ adjusted the brim of his ball cap. "I hope they're not the socks you wore back when we went here."

Vic smiled. "It wouldn't surprise me if they were. And does it count as fan gear if no one can see it?"

The two men laughed.

She looked down at the sweatshirt again. "Thanks, AJ."

Walt reached out his hand. "I'll hold your coat while you put it on."

She removed her outer layer, and handed it over to him before slipping on the sweatshirt. As she was sliding her arms back into her coat sleeves, Walt's voice rumbled beside her. "Anyone want coffee or hot chocolate?"

The group called out their orders. Walt touched her elbow. "Care to join me? I could use an extra pair of hands."

"Sure."

He stood and stepped back to allow her to go first, and the two made their way down the steps. At the ground level she turned and waited for him to join her side, before heading between the bleachers, toward the concession stand.

As they walked, Walt received numerous head nods and greetings from others attending the game. She wondered if it was his stature as sheriff or esteemed former football player that elicited such attention, and came to the conclusion that it was likely both.

She felt his hand at her back, and looked up to find him leaning in. "I haven't given you a tour of the school yet, have I?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Nope."

His arm slid down to her waist as he started directing her to the right. "Well there's a place over here, just beyond the last set of bleachers, we might want to start with."

She laughed. "Are you trying to take me to the spot where the kids make out?"

He grinned, but said nothing.

"As sheriff, and an elected official, I don't think blatant PDA is such a good idea. I'd be concerned for your reputation if we got caught."

"The game's just about to start. I think we'd have the place to ourselves."

She stopped and held his eyes as he continued to grin. "What's gotten into you?"

His fingers skimmed over the back of her hand. "Nothing."

"I don't quite believe you."

His hand paused on hers. "Well—"

"Sheriff. Deputy."

Walt pulled his hand away, and they both turned, finding Vice Principal Whitcomb standing before them. Charlie stepped forward and shook Vic's hand.

"Evening, Vic."

"Same to you, Charlie."

He then turned with an outstretched hand toward Walt, giving him a huge smile. "I heard the good news, Walt."

"Yep."

"You just leave Jameson's office?"

"Just about."

"Starting right away or waiting until next season?"

"We still have a few more details to hash out, but soon would be my guess."

"Have you had the chance to share the big news with Vic yet?"

"I was just about to when you happened upon us."

Charlie then patted Walt on the shoulder. "Well I'll leave you to it. And I'm sure I'll see you around." He turned toward Vic. "Night, Vic." As he stepped back he pointed toward the front of her sweatshirt. "I like your school spirit."

Vic watched him walk away, and then turned and arched an eyebrow in Walt's direction. "So what's the big news?"

"Well...I, uh..." He shifted his weight, as he cupped the back of his neck. "Ever since we learned why Tyler, Dylan and Andy did what they did to the other boys, I've been thinking about...things. I've been thinking about what I said to Tyler. That I'm on his side. That I want to help him."

"That's why you went up to see the boys today. To see if they're ok, and hanging in there."

Walt looked over at a group of kids, laughing as they made their way toward the bleachers.

"Catching those three doesn't keep what happened that weekend from happening again. Next time it will just be some other kids who've been pushed too far. And helping Tyler, Dylan and Andy now, as they deal with the ramifications of what they've done and what has happened to them...it's only going to go so far."

Walt hands went to his hips.

"I don't want to just be involved when it's too late. When the payback has been inflicted. That's not going to help much. So I've been thinking about how to get involved...in a way that I might be able to have a bigger impact, before things go too far."

"Evenin' Sheriff."

Walt looked over at the couple passing by and nodded. He waited until they'd moved past them before continuing.

"After I went to see AJ, to update him on the case, and let him know we caught the perpetrators, the idea came to me."

"And what's that?"

"The three of us, AJ, Henry and I, are going to help coach the football team. We went to talk to Coach Jameson this afternoon."

Again her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Really?!"

"Yep. I think it will be good for the boys to have some more adults engaged in their lives and in tune to what's going on."

Walt looked over at the bleachers. "I also think it will be good for AJ. It will give him something positive to focus on, with all he's been through these past months. And I can be present more in his life than I've been. Henry too. I want to be a better friend."

His eyes dropping back to her, she saw the concern in their depths.

"And AJ sees the need as well. To get more involved. To be a support system for these kids. He wasn't aware how much Tuck was still suffering after the accident. How much he needed help. There are other kids out there who need help, and might not have anyone at home they can turn to. He also wasn't aware of the level of hazing going on within the football team. How Tuck contributed to it, even if he wasn't an active participant. We had hazing back in our day but it's nothing like it is these days."

He shifted his stance. "So, I...uh...I don't know how big that news is, but that's the plan."

"Hi there, Sheriff."

Again he looked over to a passerby and nodded. Once the man had moved on, Walt reached out and grabbed her elbow, gently pulling her to the fence.

Glancing around, he brought his eyes back to her, and then took a step closer. "So, what do you think?"

The corners of her mouth lifted. "I think it's a really good idea."

He paused, his eyes softening. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I wanted to tell you before anyone else did. Before the game started. It all just came together late this afternoon. I'm sorry you were tipped off by Charlie first."

"That's ok."

Their breaths visibly mingled together in the air between them.

"You cold? Your nose is pink."

She shrugged. "I'm ok."

He broke eye contact, his hands going to the bottom of her coat and pulling up her zipper.

She looked down. "You're covering my team spirit."

"You're here at the game, that's more than enough team spirit." He looked down at her hands. "Where are your gloves?"

"I forgot them at home."

Walt reached into his pocket, pulling out his pair and handing them to her. "They'll be a little big."

She pushed his hand away. "No. You need them. It's only going to get colder as the game goes along."

He looked down at the gloves and then held out the right one. "You wear one, and I'll wear the other. We can trade off later."

She didn't raise her hand to accept his offering. "Walt."

"I'll be ok. I want you to have it." He lifted her hand and slipped the glove on. It hung loose on her fingers, but was definitely warm. She watched as he put the other glove on his left hand.

"Ok?"

"Ok." She looked up, silently scanning his face, the corners of her mouth lifting.

He took a step toward her. "Now what are you thinking?"

She inched closer. "I'm thinking about that spot you mentioned, just beyond the last set of bleachers."

This time it was his eyebrow that arched. "I though blatant PDA wasn't a good idea. That my reputation would be at risk."

"That was before I knew that the guy I'd be making out with was part of the football team. That's too hot to turn down."

"So my reputation be damned?"

"Pretty much."

He laughed, and then looked over at the bleachers. "I think they're going to be wondering what's taking so long with the drinks."

"See, your reputation is already at risk. Might as well be doing what they're guessing we're doing."

He brought his gaze back to her, and then she felt the palm of his hand slide against hers as he wove their fingers together. She looked down at their joined hands, her eyebrow arching as she lifted her head back up.

"I was worried about your hand being cold."

"You were, were you?"

He blinked, and then nodded. "I was."

He smiled, and then she smiled, and then he stepped forward, giving their still clasped hands a tug. "Let's get those drinks so we can get you back to your seat in time for the kick-off. Don't want you missing out on the whole Durant high school football game experience."

THE END

* * *

**Wow! If you got this far, thanks for sticking with this story all the way to the end. I can't believe it took me a year-and-a-half to complete this. Actually I can! This was the most complex of all my stories so far (with the robbery details, and character backstories, and mapping out how Walt and Vic's relationship would develop while being woven together with the case they were trying to solve), and it took a lot of time to plan out and write. I never anticipated just how challenging and rewarding it would be to write this story when I first came up with the idea...I was just thinking that I wanted to try my hand at writing a robust relationship story intertwined with a robust mystery. You'll have to let me know if everything came together ok for you as the reader. :)**

**A special thanks to anyone who favorited and followed this story, and especially to those who submitted reviews and sent PMs along the way. There were times I was considering abandoning it, or at least going on an indefinite break, but your interest motivated me to keep writing. You might not have realized how your actions were positively impacting me, but believe me they were.**

**Many, many thanks.**


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